Riddle Me This
by FollowedByImplosion
Summary: So, third instalment! Sequel to NB and TAOTEH! Adele's been shot, and Hammet isn't done yet. He's determined to make Addie suffer, and she's desperate not to let him kill people. Threats and riddles begin! Review, if you like! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a reminder of what happened in the last one! I'll update is ASAP!**

Adele analysed the situation. The gates where open, and so was the student entrance to the school building. It was obvious that he _wanted_ her to get in.

'Be quiet. He doesn't know you're here, so wait outside.'

'The element of surprise?'

'It's useful. Shut up.'

Adele crept into the gym. The lights were off, but the echo of the door shutting gave her away. She blinked rapidly as someone, presumably Hammet, flicked them on.

Sherlock was standing in the middle if the gym, unhurt, but obviously in no position to try anything. He had his hands up in mock surrender, and looked disgusted. His eyes flashed when he saw Adele, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

'I always knew you would come. Little Adele would _never_ let her _only_ friend die.' Hammet sniggered from the shadows. 'And she couldn't resist being the heroine, for once. And then, Mr Holmes would do _anything_ to stop her getting hurt. Unless the two of you have a little surprise for me, I think I'm doing rather well.'

He took out his gun. Adele and Sherlock did the same. While Hammet was outnumbered two to one, he was generally in a better position. He actually knew what was going on, whereas Adele and Sherlock were still completely in the dark about his motives.

'So. I think little Addie might want to know how this… well, how it all started. Care to explain, Sherly?'

Sherlock frowned. 'Oh, I think you should. You know it so much better than I do.'

'Just remember, I could shoot either of you at any time, if you don't do what I say.'

Sherlock sighed. 'Hammet and I have known each other for quite a while. In fact, we were at school together. Although, he's a few years older.'

'Not that you can tell.' Hammet smirked.

'I think you can. Actually, Hammet and Mycroft were… _friends_. As far as friendship goes. He was, and always will be a Holmes brother. I must say, both were brilliant. Amazingly intelligent, the pair of them. Of course, I was always living up to the expectations of my older brother. Mycroft Holmes, and his friend Hammet; destined to go into high up jobs in the government.' Sherlock smirked. 'One of them did, anyway. Your teachers would be… disappointed, Hammet. A school? Even I thought you'd do better.'

'Even Sherlock Holmes couldn't guess.' Hammet's voice rang out, and echoed in the almost empty gym.

'I recruited Hammet about a day after I jumped off that roof. Even I can't watch you constantly, Adele, you're so bloody unpredictable. I needed a bit of help, and Hammet was perfectly placed.'

'Lucky coincidence.'

'Hardly. I don't believe in coincidence. Where others see coincidence, I see danger. It's my job. Although, of course, I failed to spot it in this case. Still friends with Mycroft, Hammet?'

'Strained.'

'You might have guessed, Adele. This…'

'Idiot.' Adele felt glad that she'd had a bit of input.

'Was in league with an old friend. Jim Moriarty. Well, he kept it hidden. The contact with Mycroft helped.'

'Mycroft has a track record, of course. Letting people out when he shouldn't. And we've seen how disastrous _that_ can be.' Once again, Hammet offering his lovely but rather pointless opinions. He really needed to shut up. 'I don't know if either of you have realised, but I've had a gun pointed at Addie's head for a few hours now. And a camera watching the flat, which you found. Shame.'

'Any motive, in all of this? Or just for fun?'

'Just for fun. I've been meaning to tell Mycroft for ages but I suppose I was just… biding my time. I have enjoyed this; you two would be _marvellous _players in my little game of chess. But Moriarty's long gone now, and he was going to give me some help. I don't owe any one any favours, so I may as well… _disappear_.'

'I could turn you in now.'

'But would you, Sherly? If you turn me in, I'll go. But you'll be bored. Bored forever. I'm all you've got to occupy you, until something else comes along. And we all know that won't be for a long, long time. And what would you say I did? No proof. Apart from the camera sitting on the desk, but that can be gotten rid of in two minutes.'

'Moriarty copycat.'

'Not much he can do about it now, is there?'

Hammet shrugged, and began to pace the gym.

'Well, you two aren't really much use to me now, are you? What to do, what to do? Kill you? But that's so much _effort_. But it would get rid of the constant threat. Meddling, that's what the pair of you are.'

'Hammet, shut up. Your voice annoys me.'

'Haven't called John yet?'

'No need to get John involved in your stupidity.'

Hammet nodded.

'Any suggestions? Otherwise I'll just shoot the pair of you through the head. This is rather tedious now, you see.'

Someone moved near the door. Mycroft.

Hammet turned, and Adele and Sherlock seized the opportunity. Sherlock rugby tackled him (maybe being so upper class had its advantages), and Adele hit him over the head with her gun. Dazed, Hammet staggered, and Adele tripped backwards over her laces. What neither Sherlock nor Adele had thought of was the fact that Hammet had been ready to shoot.

The reflex action caused his finger to slip. The noise of the bullet leaving the gun echoed, deafening everyone.

Suddenly, everything moved in slow motion. Adele whirled around, catching sight of the Hammet looking pleased with himself. The tension could have been cut with a knife. Mycroft must have heard, because he was now striding across the gym, gun in hand, aiming at Hammet's head. Either Hammet had shot randomly, or at someone in particular. Although, with Mycroft's appearance, it was more likely to be someone in particular. She turned her head to see whether Sherlock was okay, only to be faced with Sherlock running towards her, and apparently unharmed.

Too late, Adele felt the bullet slam into her, shattering a few ribs in the process. She stumbled backwards into the wall, just as Mycroft ran in. As Mycroft grabbed Hammet, Sherlock ran over.

'Mycroft, get him out!' Sherlock yelled. Adele dropped her gun, just in case she accidently shot herself in the foot, with the shock.

Mycroft shoved Hammet out of the door. Adele seized her last opportunity;

'Next time, aim for the head! Finishes the job a hell of a lot quicker!'

She laughed at herself; how bloody pathetic. Still, she probably wouldn't get another chance to yell at someone, so it was best to use the time wisely.

'Phone!'

Adele had almost forgotten the seriousness of the situation. Sherlock was apparently calling Lestrade, judging by the tone of voice. Oh, and the fact that his first word was Lestrade's name. But that wasn't the point.

'Lestrade, get over to Hammersmith _now_. Don't bring anyone irritating, and call an ambulance.' Adele could hear Lestrade yelling at Sherlock over the phone. 'No, I haven't done anything, it's Adele.' Sherlock was already growing impatient. 'You need to hurry, and for God's sake _don't _let Donovan-Actually, do, then you can drive – I can't even argue with you, give me a second.'

He passed the phone to Adele. 'Tell him exactly what's going on, I need to think.' Adele grabbed the phone.

'Adele what the hell's going on?'

'That headmaster guy, long story, but you need to listen. Properly. Because you have _really_ annoying habit of missing everything important, and that won't be good, considering the current situation.' Adele's voice was slowly becoming weaker. 'Get over to the school in Hammersmith, and call an ambulance on the way. Don't bring anyone irritating, and don't let anyone else get involved. Just like Sherlock said.'

'What's-?'

'Oh, and my life depends on it, so hurry up.'

'Why-?'

'Just move, and - hang on, give the phone to Donovan, so you can actually drive.'

Adele heard Lestrade muttering something, and the sound of the car moving. So, he was on his way.

'Freak junior.'

'Make him drive at five times the speed limit, okay?'

'Wha-?'

'_Please_, Donovan, and I swear, I'll never be horrible again.' Adele couldn't believe that she was pleading with _Donovan_, of all people.

'What are you-?'

'Donovan, I _really _don't have time for your stupidity.'

Adele handed the phone back to Sherlock, who practically yelled into it; 'Put this on speaker, I want him to hear every word I say. Lestrade, if you don't get here in the next five to ten minutes, you'll be so bloody sorry. I guarantee that myself and John will find you, and make the rest of your already cut short life living hell. Do you understand me? Do you know what? Yes, that is a threat! So do it!'

Adele hadn't heard Sherlock threaten anyone in… well, ever. He hung up and dialled someone else.

'John. You speak to him, okay?' Sherlock was going mad, it seemed. He dialled the number furiously.

'Sherlock?'

'No, it's Adele, Sherlock's here but-'

'Why're you-?'

'Listen, John, I have about three minutes, so don't interrupt. Hammet got Sherlock somehow, and then got me over here, and now I've been shot and Lestrade's on the way-'

'WHAT?'

'I told you not to interrupt.' Sherlock was scribbling instructions on a piece of paper. 'He says to stay where you are, and he'll call you at some point… erm… And don't start throwing things because we can't tell Mrs Hudson.'

'I'm not even at the flat, I'm… Why didn't you call me, I'm a-'

'You may be a doctor, but you're ages away, _please_ John, don't go mad like he is, I-'

'How can I-?'

'John, shut up, I think…' Adele could hear sirens in the distance. They sounded like the ones on Lestrade's car, but she couldn't be sure. 'Look, I'll be fine, just don't let Sherlock have a breakdown or something.'

Sherlock jumped up, throwing open the back doors of the gym. The sunlight forced Adele to squint. Through her eyelashes, she could see Lestrade jogging over.

'Adele! Are you… Okay, stupid question.'

'Too right.' She turned her attention back to the phone. 'John, stop being annoying and do as I said.' She threw Sherlock's phone in his general direction. He caught it be the tips of his fingers, trying to make it look elaborate and composed.

'You're absolutely awful at catching.'

Just as she said it, the room began to spin. Sherlock yelled at her; but his voice only echoed. Lestrade's footsteps were amplified on the floor, and she could hear Donovan yelling at Sherlock. Too much yelling.

'Ad? Ad, you need to try to stay conscious… I mean it, Ad, don't go under, it'll make it worse… Ad!'

Adele grinned, probably quite stupidly, just as she blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

Adele's eyes wouldn't work, and she wasn't even completely sure how to open them. She could hear the buzz of various machines, the beeping of a heart monitor. A hospital, then. Feet shuffling, out of place. Awkward. Quiet conversation. Fuzzy, muted. Adele strained to hear, but couldn't make out much. So much for information.

Now there was a bright light. Adele could probably open her eyes now, but she didn't want to. She wouldn't benefit, not really. Keep them closed forever. Or for now at least. Someone was moving near her, muttering to themselves. She recognised their voice, but couldn't place it… Someone she had heard speak before, frequently… But she couldn't make it out, not unless they began to talk louder.

Whoever it was called her name. Adele. It sounded far off, and the voice was hollow, hopeless. And then it clicked.

_Sherlock_.

Adele knew that she wouldn't be able to answer. Even trying would be pointless. But she could hear it, which must have been a good sign. Adele tried to give a sign of consciousness, but she couldn't open her eyes, let alone talk. Adele resolved to clenching and unclenching her fist, which was possible, but hurt.

Someone else spoke now.

'Sherlock. Look.'

'What?' Sherlock, it appeared, snapped.

'Her hand.' This voice was harder to place. It was definitely one that Adele had heard recently, and quite a lot as well. Her head was fuzzy, and she couldn't think for long.

'It's nothing. Always happens. Can't possibly mean anything.'

'I'm a doctor; look, at least _try_ to think positive.'

'Try.' He scoffed, clearly unimpressed by the idea. 'No. I'm not getting my hopes up.' He said the second sentence much quieter, as if he was scared of being mocked. But it was only the two of them, and so was unlikely.

Adele wanted to call out, to tell them that she was there, and could hear. But nothing except her hand seemed to work, which was pretty useless.

'I'll leave you to it, okay? Back at the flat?'

Sherlock murmured in agreement. Now Adele knew who the second man was. John.

He left, quietly, leaving Sherlock, apparently pacing the room. From the sound of things, he was debating with himself. The word 'possible' came up a lot. It didn't last long, and soon quiet resumed.

'Adele, please, _please_, wake up. I know you're the most stubborn child in the world, but if you do this for me I promise I'll let you do whatever you want, even if it involves tearing down the wall of the flat.' He was almost pleading with some non-existent presence. Adele wished she could do something, and went back to clenching her fist. This lack of communication was annoying her.

There was someone else there now. Adele could tell instantly. More was coming back, and she could recognise Sherlock's movements. She heard the door open and close, and someone, probably who worked here, had clearly walked in.

'What?' Sherlock was becoming increasingly snappy, and seemed stressed.

'Broken ribs, completely severed an artery, lost a lot of blood. She's in critical condition.' Another voice that she recognised. It was easier to place, and Adele knew that she didn't like this person. Not much, anyway.

'There's more.'

'Missed her heart by a centimetre or so. Not much. It doesn't look… good.' Whoever was speaking clearly didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. Then again, who would, when faced with a stressed out Sherlock?

'The next few days are crucial. Then you might have to… It would take a miracle, at this stage. But maybe not later. We don't know.' She sighed, and Adele immediately placed her as Molly. Who worked in the morgue. At Bart's. Which wasn't where she was. Because Bart's didn't have the facilities to deal with whatever this was. What the hell was _she_ doing here? Because Adele was pretty sure that, for all of this, she most certainly was _not_ dead.

When Sherlock didn't answer, she continued. 'And you need to sleep. You've been here for ages.'

'No.'

'Look, Sherlock, you can't live off coffee for the next however long it is.'

'I can, and I will.'

Silence.

'I have to go.' This was definitely Molly. That was a Molly phrase.

Sherlock didn't answer, so Adele assumed that he had just nodded. So, he'd been here for ages? No one had thus far mentioned a date, so Adele couldn't be sure how long ages was. But it did mean that she'd been out of it for a while. And they said that people in comas had less chance of recovery after a certain amount of time.

Things were becoming blurry now. Sherlock had gone back to talking to himself, but the words were harder to make out. Adele felt the darkness descending back over her. She wouldn't be able to do anything else until it cleared.

Gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**You get a treat! Two in one night! I finished my homework, thought I'd be nice.**

**Reviews? Thank you!**

'Have they decided what to do with him yet?'

Sherlock again. Adele could smell coffee, so presumably he hadn't slept. Idiot. A stressed out Sherlock was one thing, but a tired Sherlock was another.

'Mycroft's dealing with him. I don't know what that involves though.'

'Does he want any help?'

'He has hinted that Adele might want to get involved. I have a feeling that you do too.'

Adele _did_ want to get involved. If she got out of this mess, which looked unlikely to be anytime soon.

'Definitely. Does he know that might be a while?'

'He, unlike you, is trying to think positive.'

'Didn't know he cared.'

'Sherlock, you need to stop acting like a child, and be the adult you really are.'

'I am.'

'I give up.'

'John, do you honestly believe that I can think positively about _this?_'

Was it just Adele, or was there a note of anger in Sherlock's voice?

'You could at least _try!_ For all you know, she can hear you!'

'That's stereotypical nonsense!'

'I don't care, Sherlock! I'm a doctor, I would know!'

'You've been told all this rubbish to make yourself and other people feel better!'

'Well, it's worked before!'

'And now it's not!'

'Sherlock, this is your problem! You make everything so overcomplicated! First time, you jump off a building! Second time, you make her go crazy by sending texts from yourself, and she thinks it's someone else! Third time, you don't even _try_ to stop her jumping off St Barts! Now – '

'What? Jumping? When did that happen?'

Oh dear. This wasn't good.

'You idiot. You lost her, didn't you?' John was almost laughing, although Adele could tell that he would be yelling again soon.

'No, no, that doesn't matter. Go back to _jumping._ When was that?'

'Erm, I can't remember, not long ago…'

'OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!'

'Sherlock, calm down! I thought you already knew!'

'If I already knew, John, I think I might have brought it up at some point, don't you?'

'No! Sherlock, that's one thing you _never_ do!'

Silence.

'Look… Sherlock, it's not your fault, but you need to talk to her about it.'

'How do I talk to her about _that_? She won't listen!'

'Sherlock, she wouldn't listen to _me_. She wouldn't listen to anyone else. She'd listen to _you._'

'What makes you think that?' Sherlock spat the words, as though he wanted to rid himself of them as quickly as possible.

'I'm not going to answer that. You can work it out for yourself.'

'I can't John! Look at me; Even _I_ can tell that I'm not in any condition to do any sort of important thinking!'

'Oh, but if Lestrade walked in with a serial killer, I'm sure you'd be out of here pretty fast. Thinking of strategies, collecting evidence. But now this, because a little emotion is too hard for the great Sherlock Holmes!'

'Maybe it is! Do you think I'd have solved all those cases if I'd had emotions? Caring gets you killed, John, and – '

'Caring about her? You care about her, Sherlock, and that's the weakness! Not caring itself, but admitting it! You don't want to admit that you're wrong!'

'So what? I don't want to admit that I'm wrong; I'm too arrogant for my own good, I've heard it all before, John! I've heard it all! Can't face facts, can't do this, can't do that!'

'And now it's rubbing off on _her_! Do you know what she was like, Sherlock, after what happened? You might have been watching, but you weren't watching enough! She wouldn't change her opinion; she wouldn't admit she was wrong! Like you!'

'She challenged people! What's wrong with that?'

'What's wrong? Oh, she only tried to jump off a building! She thought no one cared, and she wouldn't listen to anyone, because that would mean admitting that she was wrong, and so she tried to jump! You could have _told_ her you cared, _before_ you decided to pull off this little charade!'

'So it's my fault now, is it?'

'Maybe it is!'

Shit. The fact that she was unable to yell at both of them was annoying.

'No. No, that came out wrong, I – '

'You're right.'

'No, I'm not, I just meant- '

'What was I thinking?'

'Sherlock, I didn't mean – '

'I am _such_ an – '

'Can you just listen to me for a minute?'

Adele was pretty sure that Sherlock wouldn't listen. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to hear, and just as John finished speaking, the darkness washed back over her again, silencing everything.


	4. Chapter 4

Adele could tell that John was there. It was quite obvious, because it sounded like he was reading a newspaper. Sherlock didn't have the patience. Newspapers weren't very interesting anyway. Well, John seemed to like them, but John's brain was slightly less bothered by boredom, and John didn't guess the culprit of the unsolved murder or the robbery within ten seconds of reading the article.

The page turning stopped.

'Guess this one, Ad. I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?'

Could he be any less creative? This was possibly the most boring riddle Adele had ever heard. Admittedly, she hadn't heard many, but that was beside the point. Riddles were a waste of time. You could just _tell people the answer_! What a stupid idea.

_E. It's the letter E, you idiot. It's not _that_ difficult. E. E. E. The End. TimE. SpacE. Every placE. The first letter of the word _end_. The last letter of the word _time_ and _space_. And the first and last letters of _every place_. _

'No? As much as this is an awful situation, I could get used to not being constantly contradicted.'

And this was the point at which Adele would quite happily yell at him. Although it was slightly amusing. But not much. Obviously.

'You'll get hell for that, you know.' John had probably been surprised. That was definitely Sherlock. This would be interesting.

'Now who's thinking positive?'

'Molly's been on my case, no doubt she's followed me here. Not sure why she bothers…'

_SHE FANCIES YOU! FOR GOD'S SAKE! ARE YOU BLIND OR DEAF? NO! YOU'RE NIETHER! YOU'RE AN _IDIOT, _THEN! SHE FANCIES YOU! _

Adele was aware that no one could hear her. Although she would definitely remember to tell Sherlock this when she could.

'Anyway, he's been texting. Her.'

Well, that wasn't good.

'What?'

'He's incredibly dim-witted, I don't know why-'

'Mycroft's supposed to have him locked up!'

'Yes, but Mycroft's an idiot. Keep up, John. Now...'

Sherlock was going off into his own world again, and Adele was slowly drifting back into the realms of sleep. She would have to find out more next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**IngridNixie has been at it again! It's… yay! **

**I'm contemplating what to do with Adele… I have stuff planned, but no one seems to be paying attention… **

**DECSICIONS!**

**Enjoy and please review! Thanks!**

Adele could hear, but there weren't any voices. She could hear the beeps of the surrounding machines, the general buzz of the hospital, but there was no one beside her. Not a talking someone anyway. If she could, she would scream in frustration. She wished she could scream. She wished she could sigh. A sigh would be good. She remembered what it felt like, to sigh, to scream. But something didn't work, had come loose, and her body wouldn't do what she wanted it to. She knew she must be breathing. But still the only movement she could feel was her hand. She thought about how the little scar on her wrist had acted as her grip on reality, and now the hand attached to it was the only thing that linked her to the outside world. She felt like she would have laughed if she could. And was normal. Consciousness was easier when there were no exterior conversations to pay attention to. And then.

'Can I see her?'

The voice was a small, quiet and female. She sounded… raspy, as if the question had been forced.

'I… I'm not um, certain…' It was Molly again. 'I'm not even sure if I should've let you in- Maybe we should talk to Sherlock-'

'No.' The voice was sharp this time. 'I mean… I don't want to bother him.'

'Well, err, he'll probably show up in a bit.'

'I know. Could you, maybe, go?'

Adele was almost having trouble telling them apart now. Someone coughed, and then a door was shut. She heard footsteps, presumably from the non-Molly person, coming toward her. She heard the creak of the person sitting down beside her.

'Hi.'

She recognised the voice, but could not place it. Stupid fuzzy memory bank.

'It's Eliza, by the way.'

Eliza. Oh. Curiously, she didn't sound at all nervous or freaked out by the experience of talking to someone who wasn't going to answer back.

'I spoke to Sherlock. Well, I mostly stood there while he and John argued about whether you could hear them. I didn't say anything. I know you can. And I'm not being a stupid little wishful thinker. I actually know.'

Adele wished Eliza would elaborate, but the girl went off on another tangent.

'I don't think either of them particularly cares, really. They just can't stand the whole situation, and are arguing to stop themselves thinking about it. Adds weight to your whole lover's dispute theory, actually.'

Eliza was silent. Adele was fully aware that this was the longest she had stayed alert, and was not about to go back under. She willed Eliza to speak again. After a few seconds that took forever, Eliza started up again.

'Do you want to know what you look like? It might help to have a whole visual picture thing. You've got a ventilator- that's like, a machine to help you breathe, although you probably knew that. Anyway, that's connected through two tubes in your nose. You've got a heart monitor, obviously. There's a drip for drugs in your left arm, a drip with blood for your right, and one for nutrients and stuff in your neck. You're actually pretty lucky, really. Kitty has to have a whole big tube in her mouth when she's asleep.'

Eliza's voice broke a little, but she continued.

'Kitty's my sister.' She answered the question that doubtless would have been asked, had there been anyone else able to speak in the room.

'You know, the one I have to look after sometimes? Well, she's not younger than me. She's… Well, she's older actually. She's seventeen. And I have to look after her, because my Mum has to work a lot.' She took a shaky breath, but when she spoke again her voice was void of emotion. 'And my Mum works a lot, because we need money. We need money to pay for Kitty's carers, and her treatment. Because Kitty's not really… normal. It isn't her fault though. It was, my um, my Dad's fault.'

Adele could feel her brain becoming fuzzy, but she forced herself to stay awake. She was not going to black out without hearing everything Eliza had left to say.

'My Dad left when I was four.' She said with a sigh. 'We coped, you know. We were okay for a while. But then he came back, and… well, stuff happened. Nothing great unfortunately. And Kitty… Well.'

She should have been crying… Why wasn't she crying?

'That's how I know. I mean, that you can hear me. She wouldn't have survived if she couldn't hear us. If she didn't know just how much we needed her to. She was so,' Eliza paused. 'She was strong. Really bloody strong. That's one of the reasons I'm worried about you, Adele. You're tough, and you're clever, but you're not _brave._ Not like Kitty was, anyway. And she did it, but she wasn't… the same. And it killed Mum. And me, obviously. I can't, show it, though. I don't, for them. Everyone always says how strong I am. How much "courage" I have.' She laughed. 'Sometimes I feel like I've forgotten how to cry.'

Adele wished she could roll her eyes. She wanted to stop listening, to kick herself for becoming emotionally invested in the problems of this silly little girl. But at the same time, she wanted to know. Everything.

'And the reason I'm telling you this,' Eliza continued. 'Is so you'll understand. One, why I even made friends with you in the first place, and two…' She coughed. 'Adele, I'm not strong, and I'm not courageous. I'm weak. Hammet- he had them, with, I don't know, assassins, and I-!' Eliza broke off, her voice seeming cloaked in tears. 'I couldn't save you!' She was whispering, but to Adele's ears it sounded like a scream. 'And he- He just kept hitting her!'

Adele wasn't sure who she was talking about now, or when.

'And _me_! I just, stand there, every time! I let it get to me, I can't ever-!'

A sob erupted from the girl. Adele didn't want to care. She wanted to hate her. But she just… she didn't. It was frustrating, to say the least.

'I told him.' Eliza said eventually, her voice hard once more. 'Where you were, where Sherlock might be, how to find you. And I'm sorry, but I couldn't lose them. And I know you know how that feels. It's funny. They don't even know how close they came to death. One gunshot, all it takes. Easy.'

There was a pause.

'And that's why _you've _got to survive, Adele. Not because Sherlock Holmes will become a vegetable if you don't, not for your friends, or your family. If I tell you to survive for the people you love, I know you won't. You've got to survive, so you can put a bullet into that filthy bastard's brain and show _him _just how easy it is.'

Adele's mind was still reeling when Eliza's chair screeched as she stood up.

'How long have you been standing there?'

'Long enough. How is she?'

John's voice.

'If there was any change, you'd know. And he'd be in here going insane over it. How is he by the way?'

'If there was any change, you'd know. Still just sitting there, staring at the wall. Listening to the little voices. The usual.' Adele heard the smile in his voice. And the concern following it. 'What are you doing?'

'Checking.' Eliza replied. 'Sometimes there's feeling. Usually in the upper body. Kitty said she felt it whenever I kissed her forehead. She may have been lying though.'

At that moment, Adele felt a hand hold hers. She wanted to grip onto it, hold it there, damn whoever's it was as long as she could _move_. It was over all too quickly, and Eliza's hand was gone. Adele felt just a little bit sick at the thought of her kissing her forehead. Things were getting swimmy, and Adele knew she'd already been conscious for far too long

'Get him to hold her hand a bit.' Eliza was saying. 'She'd like that.'

'You want her –Adele, I mean- to kill Hammet?'

'He almost killed me, my only friend, my family and hers.'

The last thing Adele heard was Eliza's voice, cold and hard.

'I'm not fussy.'


	6. Chapter 6

**It exists. This took SO MUCH TIME. I've been working on it since chapter 18 of New Beginnings, and only finished it ten minutes ago. **

**I miss the reviews. Should I carry on? Lots of read this, but not many comment… Makes me sad. And Adele sad. D'you know what she's like inside my head? SO ANNOYING. Be gla you don't have to live with her people. I want to kill her most days.**

**So, review I you like it, but most of all, enjoy!**

**Bye! **

Adele could hear them. Or it. Or at least pretty much everything. To a certain extent. She could also hear the beeps of various machines. She struggled to open her eyes, but somehow managed. The room was very bright, and almost everything was coloured white. There was something soft behind her head, probably a pillow and it was warm. Very warm. Not summer warm, where nothing is comfortable, but cosy warm.

The room was actually pretty much how she had envisioned it. A hell of a lot of machines emitting various annoying noises. Adele decided that moving her head would _not_, at this point, be the most sensible option, and so resolved to allowing her eyes to flicker around. Unfortunately, this didn't gain her much information either.

Eliza's description had been right. The monitors, everything. Much better than Adele's imagination.

To add to the list of annoying occurrences, there was something under her nose. Testing herself, Adele raised her hand to take it off (which, thankfully, she could do), only to find Sherlock's hand closing around her wrist.

'Not on my watch.'

There was the pain shooting through her ribs, the dull ache in her arm (which made no sense what so ever) and the headache. Out of everything, that was the worst bit. The other stuff was bearable, but headaches were the worst force to contend with.

'What…? 'Lock?' Adele tried to focus on what was actually in front of her. Sherlock was there, but he was blurry. She was desperate to be able to twist the bracelet on her wrist, although she wasn't sure it was even there. Normally this would send her into a complete panic, but for all she knew it _was_ there, but she couldn't see it.

'How're you feeling?'

There was now no concept of sensible answers from now on. Adele's brain had decided that it would say stupid and weird stuff, just because it could. 'Fluffy.'

Sherlock was clearly trying not to laugh at that. Adele scowled at him.

'You know what happened?'

Adele tried to think back. 'Hammet...'

Sherlock nodded. Adele couldn't actually remember much more, considering that one, she was obviously drugged up, even though it wasn't helping, and two, she was fighting just to stay awake.

'Where's my bracelet?'

'On your wrist. Where else would it be?'

'Can't see it, can I?'

Sherlock chuckled. 'Your friend came to see you, you know.'

'Hm? 'Liza?'

'Yeah. She was pretty upset. According to John.'

'John? Where's he-'

'Going mad with worry, I'll assure you. Flat's never quiet.'

Even Adele had to sort of laugh there. So many romantic undertones. She couldn't really think of much else to say. If she had enough energy, she would probably tell Sherlock to stop being an idiot and admit his love for John. Next time, maybe.

'I'm sorry, Ad.'

'Hm?'

'John told me everything I missed.'

'Doesn't matter.'

'It does. He told me that Lestrade found you in the roof.'

Ah. Didn't he know about that? Curse John and his memory.

'Yeah.'

'And I know about your wrists. It's a bit obvious, now.' Adele actually had to check her arms. The marks were still there, although they could probably be mistaken for pen. Unless Sherlock was there. Adele was surprised she'd hidden it for so long.

'Ages ago…'

'I don't care. Stop it. I'm not giving up just because you're half asleep.'

'You will.'

'Adele, I've had a lot of time to interrogate John. You have explaining to do.'

'Don't _care_. Want to-'

'You can't evade the topic forever. I'll just bring it up next week.'

'You do that.'

'I will. And I don't care how much you procrastinate. I've asked John-'

'John's told you stuff 'cos you've been going mental. Stop pretending you're devoid of emotion.' And there went pretty much most of her energy. It was sort of worth it, but still.

Sherlock chose to change the subject at this point. Idiot. 'You know how long you've been here?'

Adele shook her head. Ow.

'D'you know where you are?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Can you tell me?'

'Hospital?'

'Yes. You know why?'

'Shot. Hurts.'

'I know. It will for a while. I promise that it won't be for long.' Sherlock tried to smile. Although he didn't do a very good job.

''Lock?'

'Yeah?'

'Why'd he do it?'

Sherlock thought about it. When he finally decided on an answer, it didn't sound very sure. 'He's planning something. I don't know what.'

Adele nodded, making a mental note to find Hammet and shoot _him_ next time she saw him.

'You need to sleep.'

'You always say that.'

'This time I mean it.'

'I hate you.'

'Of course you do. It's three in the morning and I think you'd probably be better off asking all this when you're _not_ half asleep. So, you have a choice: Sleep, or I get morphine. And hallucinations.'

'I hate you so much.'

'And I _will_ carry out the threat. This time.'

Adele shook her head. Even in this state, being stubborn was a second nature. 'Tell me. Now.'

'And throwing a strop isn't going to help. Adele, you of all people should take advantage of this situation.'

'Why?'

'Because you might actually get some sleep. Which you need.' Sherlock was now using the serious voice. Adele thought it was annoying when John used it, but now this?

'No I don't. I need to find out why I'm here, and I need to kill the person who did it.' And now her speech was slurred. This was one of the most annoying situations Adele had been stuck in. Sherlock shrugged.

'Give me one _valid_ reason for me to tell you why you're here.' A light flickered somewhere, and Adele turned her head to investigate. In the second that she'd been distracted, she felt someone poke something into her arm. All of a sudden she felt incredibly sleepy, and realised what had happened. Where did he get morphine from anyway?

'I hate you.'

'That's not valid. I promise I'll tell you everything when you wake up.' He said softly, stroking her hair. 'But I want you to understand everything when I do. 'Kay?'

Adele nodded sleepily. 'Still hate you.'

'I know. I'm sorry, Ad. Really.'


	7. Chapter 7

'Hey, Ad.'

Adele opened her eyes to see Sherlock sitting beside her. He smiled.

'When they bought you in, after it happened, you looked so fragile. Like a china doll, so easily broken. And they took you away, it was awful. I felt so guilty, because it was me that started it, and you were suffering because of it.'

Adele tried to look closer. There were dark circles under Sherlock's eyes, making it clear that he still hadn't slept. The smell of coffee hung in the air.

'And afterwards, when you were in here. If it hadn't been for all the machines, and wires, and everything else, you looked so sweet. Like an angel of sorts, but a helpless one. You looked like there was nothing in the World that was troubling you, even though in reality, you were fighting just to stay alive.'

He resumed the combing of her hair. It was weird to see an _upset _Sherlock.

'Tell me what's wrong, Ad.'

Adele shook her head. There wasn't any point.

'Please, Ad.'

The dizziness that so often came with these few minutes of consciousness was settling in. Why was it that she really wanted to tell him? Why couldn't she just pretend it was all okay, and go back to normal? Why? The one question burned into her brain, the one really bothering her.

'Why am I still here if everyone wants me dead?'

'Not everyone. One person.'

'Two.'

Sherlock thought about it for a minute.

'No. One. Just Hammet, no one else. Who else is it?'

Adele shook her head again. 'Doesn't matter.'

'It does. Tell me.'

'My mother.' It was all Adele could manage. The act of just listening, let alone _talking_ was tiring her out.

'Ah. Adele, she was one of the most disgusting people to walk this planet.'

'Doesn't mean she was wrong.'

Sherlock sighed. 'She tricked you, Ad. That was it. Put an idea into your head, and let it grow. You were a kid, and you still are, so it's there. Don't listen to it.'

'Can't.'

'You can ignore it. You're strong.'

'Not anymore.'

'You are. Otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me now.'

'I might not be tomorrow.'

'I know you will. You're Adele.'

'Which is why I might not.'

'No. You'll be fine. I know you will. I'm never wrong.'

Adele shook her head. Once again, she was fading fast. But there was one more question.

'Why'd she do it?'

Sherlock shook his head sadly. 'I don't know. I really don't. But you're safe now. No one will ever hurt you again. I mean it this time.'

'It's too late. He'll try to-'

'Then I'll find him and deal with him myself. But I promise that this is the last time you'll ever see an intensive care unit.'

'I'm not so sure.'

'I am. And that's enough for both of us.' He paused for a minute. 'Eliza said to hold your hand, while you were out of it. I did.'

Adele could only manage a sentence more. 'You don't need to prove that you care. I know you do. I always have.'

She could only stay awake long enough to see Sherlock smile.


	8. Chapter 8

_I really sound like I'm begging here, but I still miss you guys. _

_Enjoy :D_

Adele woke with a start. This was nothing new, of course, but the circumstances in which this had occurred definitely were. She felt a hand close around her mouth, stopping her from screaming. Her normal reaction would be to bite them, or just try to scream anyway, but her brain wasn't functioning at its normal speed anymore, and anything she did do would be badly timed and reckless.

'Good, Adele. Now, I'm going to let you go, and you won't try to yell. Understand?'

Adele froze. She knew that voice perfectly well, even after so long not recognising anything. Hammet. But Mycroft had him locked up, didn't he? She nodded slowly, and he took his hand away, grinning.

'Now, little Adele is going to listen very carefully, otherwise her friends won't be living much longer.'

Adele nodded again. She didn't have a clue of what else she could possibly do, considering that not only could she not move, but Hammet most likely had a gun.

'So, Adele, still alive? Now, that won't do, will it? I should have shot your dear friend, he might have cooperated. But you did give me some useful advice, back then. Through the head. But I'm not going to do that, just yet. No, I'm going to make you _suffer_, Adele Holmes, and then, when I've finished tormenting you with my constant threat, I'll turn on your friends. Each and every one of them, starting with the pawns, and working up to the king. Chess. And the best bit? You won't know when I'll start. Could be tomorrow. Could be next week. Could be next year. Now, I can give you a choice: Donovan? Or Anderson? Or, better, you could let me pick! In fact, let's save your drugged up little brain the trouble, and I'll choose. But I won't tell you which one. No. And do you know what? After them, I'll go for DI Molly, or Mrs. Hudson. The _knights_. And here's the good bit! Then, Adele, I'll get that little girl you called your friend at the school. Eliza, the _bishop_. You really shouldn't try to make friends, Adele. You're dangerous. Now, after Eliza, we can have a break, and then, suddenly, I'll move to the _rook_. John Watson. Should be fun. And finally, depending on how nice I'm feeling, I'll get Sherlock. Or you. The _king_, and the _queen_. And all the while, I'll give you a few riddles to solve. Simple ones, at first, and then I'll make the stakes higher. Higher and higher and higher. I'll give you a hint, Adele. You have to solve them. No one else. _You_. And if you don't solve them, I'll shoot. You know I will.'

Adele nodded again. Hammet began to back towards the door, sneering.

'See you soon, Adele. Very soon.'

As soon as he left, Adele began to think. How had Hammet gotten out? Mycroft had a record of letting criminals out when he really shouldn't, but surely Sherlock had some control over what Mycroft did? Hammet must have done Mycroft a favour, or something. But Mycroft wouldn't make the same mistake twice, surely? Bu then, it was Mycroft. Adele didn't have her phone, which was a drawback, and Mycroft would avoid her if he'd let Hammet out. It was possible that Hammet had slipped under the radar, and run for it, but Mycroft might have noticed by now. The only way to check was to go and ask personally, which was pretty much impossible.

Another question was Hammet's motives. What did he actually want to do? Get Adele? Sherlock? He seemed to change his mind every time she saw him. Couldn't decide? Or playing games? Probably the latter, but still.

And could she even trust herself? Adele had to look at the current situation: The amount of morphine in her system was so high that half the time she didn't even know what was reality. Chances were that she'd go back to sleep, and not remember most of what had just happened. She couldn't stay awake until Sherlock got there; Already, Adele was getting drowsy. She didn't even know the time, as the effort to raise her wrist to check her watch was too large. Realistically, would Sherlock believe her? He might guess himself, but Adele knew full well that he'd have trouble believing some of the finer details.

He'd said chess. He'd told her what he was going to do, really. Why? It was almost like Moriarty with the cases and Sherlock having to solve them, except that this was Hammet, and Adele had to solve some stupid brain teasers. What was the point? Why would anyone bother? Really?

So what would she do? Adele's brain was telling her to call Sherlock. Or half of it was. The stupid half. The clever half was telling her that she didn't have her phone, so she couldn't call him. Well that was helpful. Sort of.

Riddles? Seriously? Riddles were easy. Adel e had solved one when she was _unconscious _for God's sake. Unless these riddles were really difficult. But Hammet was an idiot. Hardly likely that he'd give her something she couldn't solve. He thought she was just a kid. Hopefully.

Thankfully, Adele didn't have to wait very long for Sherlock to make an appearance.

'I need to borrow your phone.'

As soon as Sherlock stepped into the room, Adele held out her hand expectantly. He stopped for a minute, shrugged, and handed it over.

'Why?'

'Use your powers of deduction.'

Sherlock was silent for a minute, as he frowned and surveyed the room. The only sound was the soft tap of Adele's typing;

_Mycroft:_

_Check on Hammet for me. Reply within the next ten minutes. And then explain._

_Adele_

Sherlock had looked up suddenly, his expression furious. 'When was he here?'

'Don't know, couldn't even see my watch.'

'What did he say?'

'I can't remember all of it… Um, he said he'd get everyone… work his way up? And puzzles. Something about puzzles. Donovan and Anderson, that's who he's going to start with.'

'What else?'

'I can't remember.'

'Yes you can. Try.'

'He's going to send puzzles, and I have to solve them. Only me.'

Sherlock nodded, into thin air.

'That's all I remember.'

Sherlock's phone registered a new message. It was from Mycroft, hopefully with an explanation.

_RE:_

_Concrete evidence required._

_Mycroft_

Sherlock held out his hand for the phone. Adele gave it to him. 'D'you think Mycroft let him out?' She asked.

'Depends. Did he mention Mycroft at all?'

'Erm, not that I remember.'

'Probably did, then. Mycroft _is_ an idiot.'

'Tell me something I _don't_ know.'

'Focus on the task at hand. Argh, this has completely disrupted my plans!'

'What plans?'

'I had plans, except this has completely disrupted them!'

'Will you explain them?'

'No. I'm going to see Mycroft.'

'Can I come?'

'The funny thing is, Adele, that even if you were at the flat, I still wouldn't let you.'

'What? Why?'

'Because I want Mycroft to retain _some_ ability to speak. Actually, I'm getting John over here.'

'I'm sure he won't mind at all.'

'Why would he?'

Adele shook her head. 'I can't stand being in the same room as John for however long you're going to take. Also, I doubt that John can stand being in the same room as me for a prolonged amount of time.'

'It's either John or Molly. Take your pick.'

'John. Just not Molly. _Anything_but Molly.'


	9. Chapter 9

Adele spent the next however many hours being incredibly bored. Sherlock had gone to see Mycroft, but had yet to return. John had turned up, with some newspapers, which would have been nice, had it not been for the fact that nothing actually seemed to be happening in the world anymore. Adele had practically begged John for either his or her phone (preferably her own), but John had told he didn't have it. Even though it was so blatantly obvious that he had it in his pocket. Meanie.

Had she had her phone, Adele would have wasted no time in texting Mycroft. Or spamming Mycroft with texts. Just to annoy him. Then she would have probably texted Sherlock, and told him to hurry up. Couldn't Mycroft just _tell him_ whether he'd let Hammet out himself or something? But it was Mycroft. And Sherlock. Which was really why John should have gone with him.

Late afternoon arrived, but Sherlock _still _hadn't turned up. Idiot. Adele did however remember something she had wanted to ask John.

'How was your date thing?'

John looked up from the paper. 'Oh. It was okay.'

'Is that code for _I said or did something to do with Sherlock and she broke up with me_ or _I made an arse of myself in front of a woman again_?'

'How did you…?'

'It's pretty obvious. You _are_ quite predictable.'

'Is that a compliment?'

'No idea. Maybe I just notice things.'

'I think you do.'

'Then consider yourself forewarned.'

'Thanks.'

John was silent for a few minutes, until Adele interrupted once again. There probably wasn't anything particularly important in his brain anyway, so it wasn't a bad thing.

'That riddle. The one about the time and space and stuff?'

'Hm? Oh, so you heard that?'

'And got the answer. Or did you manage yourself?'

'I didn't, no.'

'D'you want the answer?'

'Will it stop you muttering the word _bored_ in your sleep?'

'What? I do that?'

'Occasionally. But only muttering. You used to swear.'

'Inform me next time.'

'If you like. How do you get bored in your sleep?'

'Who said I actually sleep?'

'I'll assume you do. Otherwise you might be a robot.'

'D'you want the answer or not?'

'Yes.'

'It was E.' Adele didn't want to tell John why. One, he needed to work it out or himself. And two, she really couldn't be bothered. There were much more interesting things in the world. Although not many of them where anywhere near her. Minor drawback.

John left after a while, still being annoying. John was nice, but annoying. Maybe it was the general _why does he get to stay at the flat and eat cola bottles? _Thing. Well, John probably didn't feel particularly superior, but that wasn't the point.

Sherlock turned up at some point later. He looked incredibly pissed off, which was interesting and boring at the same time. It was interesting because it was quite likely that Sherlock had been speaking to Lestrade or Mycroft. And it was boring because anyone he may have been speaking with was probably a complete idiot, unless it was John or Mrs Hudson. And he certainly hadn't been talking to John.

'Lestrade sends his regards.'

'How considerate.'

'Mrs Hudson says get well soon.'

'Right… You told her?'

'Of course I did. And Molly's being asking me whether I'm okay, is that what people normally do?'

'You do look a bit depressed. And angry.'

'Do I? And John's gone out, but he didn't tell me where.'

'You two are soul mates, I'm serious. And I don't know why you're telling me this, he wouldn't have told me. Probably a _date_.'

Sherlock continued as though she hadn't spoken. 'Donovan's being suspicious.'

'As in?'

'Not insulting me.'

'Insult her first.'

'I did.'

'Oh. Well then I don't know.'

'Anderson's gotten more stupid in the past week. So you can tell him anything now, and he'll believe you.'

'I thought you could do that before?'

'No, before he believed most things. I think he has a diary.'

'You think? Found it ages ago.'

'You did?' Sherlock's eyes practically _lit up_. Why he was so happy was a mystery. Anderson's diary had only consisted of moaning and stupidity.

'It was crap. I lost a couple of IQ points, don't read it.'

'What did he say?'

'Complained. About everything.'

'Oh. Maybe I won't bother.' Adele watched him for a second before saying;

'Second draw in his desk.'

'Thanks.'

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. When he did, Sherlock only repeated himself. 'John's gone out.'

'As you said. If you two would just admit your love for each other, life would be a hell of a lot easier.'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why do you think we're _soul mates_?'

'Because everyone else does. I've seen the way you look at each other, don't deny it. And you keep mentioning him. If you'd _really_ like me to tell you everything, I would, but you covered it with Irene Adler. Who was your way of pretending that you're straight. Which you and John both clearly are _not_.'

'You said-'

'I said nothing. Be nice.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't know what I'm saying. So you can't do anything. And what did Mycroft say?'

'Mycroft was being difficult, wouldn't give me an actual answer. Although I have good news.'

'Good news? Tell me the good news!'

'You can come home on Wednesday.'

'And today is...?'

'Friday.'

'That's five days to far away.'

'Stop being so pessimistic.'

Adele chose to ignore that. 'Have you told John?'

'I mentioned something. Well, I only texted him, I went straight to find Mycroft. Via Scotland Yard.' Sherlock looked a bit guilty now.

'Are we going to tell him?'

'When you get back, I don't want to be alone with him when he explodes.'

'Oh. Great. Nice. Let's hope he doesn't get kidnapped before then. Because then we'll have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.'

'Why would he…? He mentioned _John_?'

'He'll be one of the last, apparently. Did I not tell you any of this?'

'No. You should have.'

'Well he actually mentioned pretty much everyone I know. And that isn't a particularly wide field, is it? I mean, I don't exactly have a massive social circle.'

'It's still a lot of people.'

'Will caring about them help save them?'

Sherlock actually looked pretty freaked out when she said this. Adele _did_ feel bad for saying it, but it was worth it just to make him look like that.

'Don't say that. Don't listen to me. Ever.'

'Who else will I listen to? John?'

'It might do you some good.'

'It might lower my IQ. Thanks, but no thanks.'

'You should be nicer to John, you know.'

'You should admit your love for him. Then we have a deal. Actually, I'll do pretty much anything you want, just _please_ do this one thing.'

'No.'

Adele didn't really understand why Sherlock and John were so hesitant about admitting it. Just about _everyone_ thought that they were together, and for good reason. At first Adele had found it quite annoying, but it had gotten funnier as every time Sherlock and John met someone, they were assumed to be together.

'Wait… he said riddles.'

'Yes. As I said. As is the point of all this.'

'So we could… _hypothetically_, of course, get ahead of him. Couldn't we?'

'Don't ask _me_. And I don't actually see how.'

'Riddles aren't something only certain people can access, Adele. They're all over the internet.'

'There are thousands of riddles out there though. If you think I can memorise the answers to every single riddle in the universe, you're wrong. I'm not that clever.'

'But-'

'Just because you can do stuff like develop a bloody _mind palace_, doesn't mean we all can.'

'Write it down.'

Adele had to laugh. 'Seriously? You would need all the paper in Britain to write all that down. I don't fancy it.'

'Or we could-'

'Just solve them? You know, the easy way?'

'How is that _easy_? If I'm not allowed to help, then-'

'I can solve a riddle. I think.' That was the only real piece of doubt. How difficult would the riddles actually be? And Hammet had said he would _get_ people. Get? As in kill? Most likely. This was pretty much a feeble attempt to recreate Moriarty and his stupid hostages.

'You think. Now, we'll assume he'll give you about a day for each one, so if you work fairly quickly we can get one step ahead of him. Of course, we have to find out where he is, and…' Sherlock continued like this for some time. What he didn't realise was that Adele wasn't actually listening. She had gone back to her book, this time Physics. The worst of the sciences.

'Are you listening?' Sherlock almost yelled into her ear. Ow.

'Guess. At the moment, calculating average speed is much more interesting than you going on about riddles. I'll be getting enough of them in the next however long this charade takes us. Either shut up and talk about something else, or go away.'

Sherlock actually looked hurt. Well, wounded. Either or. 'That wasn't very nice. You're normally nice to me.'

'You were annoying me. I'm well within my rights to tell you to shut up, you know.'

'You won't get away with that around John.'

'John is irrelevant.'

'John is- John.'

'Irrelevant.'

'Fine. You mess around like a child while everyone you know gets hurt. Fine by me. But I can't do anything.'

'You're telling me to _grow up_? Because you haven't spent years on end telling other people not to do exactly that.'

'Well now I'm telling you to do what you're told! For a change!'

'No.' Adele folded her arms and glared at him. She had to win. Just to annoy him.

'Adele, _listen_ to me.'

'No.'

'I won't go until you listen.'

'I won't listen and you'll have to go.'

'I said-'

'So did I.'

'Don't be difficult.'

'I'm not being difficult.'

_This has been constructed around all my exams; I'm on study leave starting Friday, but I won't actually be able to write much-I have ten exams to get over with, plus revision. But I'll do as much as I can over the weekends._

_As always, I miss reviews (Really sounds like I'm begging now). I love you guys. I hope you know that. You guys are helping me to get my ICT work finished. So I'm eternally grateful._

_Virtual Sugar Quills for all!_

_xD _


	10. Chapter 10

_What's new:_

_I'm thinking of changing my penname. There's supposed to be a poll on my profile, but it won't show up. But I want it to be 'FollowedByImplosion'._

_I'm writing an original thing too. So now my time is divided. _

_I still have nine exams to go. So time is even more divided._

_Apparently this isn't what my parents bought my laptop for. So I'm going to be writing less now. Sad face. _

_And what I mean by point no.4 is that I'll be doing lots of this at school. So I'll only manage about two hours writing a day. _

_BUT THERE IS GOOD NEWS; summer holidays in a few weeks! So I can do much writing! A ten hour plane flight is always useful._

_Except whenever I turn my internet off for plane journeys, it magically turns itself back on every time I start the damned thing up. So it's not really safe for planes. _

_And my MSWord expires on 2nd July._

_Okay, in short; Lots of exams, thinking of changing my penname, and missing the reviews. But enjoy this chapter, and chances are I'll put another one up in a week. Well, exam stress should be gone by then, so it's almost definite._

_And some of this chapter was written based on an idea from my friend, 'SherWhoHead'. Enjoy. :D_

'John won't understand anything we're saying.' Adele had only just realised this herself. Why hadn't Sherlock told John about this?

'Oh yes. John, Hammet's out, and riddles.' Adele almost started laughing when John's expression of complete confusion turned into one of utter shock. How normal he was. Sherlock had simply strolled into the kitchen to… whatever.

'What… When? How? Why?' John was actually quite funny when he was stuttering.

'No idea for either of those questions.'

'Helpful.'

Back at Baker Street. Adele had quite literally thrown herself onto the sofa as soon as she got back. Big mistake. Apparently broken ribs didn't just heal on their own. Huh. John had been glancing at her pretty much every five seconds ever since, which was annoying. Then again, everything was suddenly very annoying.

'_What_?'

For what seemed to be the five hundredth time that day, Adele caught John watching her. Every time she asked him why, he muttered _'nothing'_ and looked away.

'_What_, John?'

Once again, he muttered some sort of nonsense, and went back to the paper.

'John, spit it out.'

He still ignored her. What was the point?

'John, say it before I throw something at you.'

John put the paper down, and leaned forwards, looking serious. Oh joy.

'Have you been diagnosed?'

This confused Adele. 'With what?'

John deliberated before he spoke again. 'Asperger's.'

'What? No, I haven't really thought about it.'

John grabbed a torch from the table and shone it in her eyes. Adele jumped away, almost falling over.

'Don't blind me, you idiot! What does _that_ determine?'

'People with Asperger's are sensitive to light. I was testing it.'

'By _blinding_ me? John, if you shine a light in my face, I'm going to react!'

'Yeah, but most people don't yell.'

'Well, I don't like bright lights. So?'

'You're fascinated by guns. And reflex actions.'

'Interesting subjects.'

'You can't empathize, you don't care about having friends, and you refuse to make eye contact. You're pretty insensitive; your behaviour is repetitive and abnormally focused. You can memorise anything, provided that you find it interesting, you take stuff literally. You have a highly developed vocabulary, but you don't understand figurative language. You understand the idea of teasing and humour, but you react badly to it. You can recognise patterns easily; you don't like loud sounds or intense lights, and probably have one of the most messed up sleep patterns I've ever come across.'

Sherlock had appeared in the doorway, unheard. Adele had realised that it was him instantly. John couldn't speak that fast. She glared at him.

'Thanks for your input. Look, I don't care; I'm more interested in-'

'And now you avoid the subject. And I've got another point.'

'Oh joy. What?'

'You won't work with anyone you don't recognise, even from Scotland Yard.'

'_You_ do that! And anyone working for Scotland Yard is an idiot. If you think _I'm_ going to work with an idiot, you're mad. I have enough trouble putting up with you and John.'

'I'm a sociopath, we established that ages ago. Now, prove me wrong.'

'I can't. You... Look, what does it matter?'

'It doesn't, but we were on the subject.'

'Then why are we still discussing it?'

John looked conflicted. 'Adele, I'm sorry if-'

'No, you didn't upset me. People have said stuff that's way worse. Besides, it isn't insulting to ask. It is if you make fun of it, though.'

'Look me in the eye and say that.'

'No. I'm bored now.' Adele decided that at this point, retreating to the land of headphones and her computer would probably be a good idea. Preferably in her room. Chances of getting away without being questioned were pretty small at the moment though. So she would have to either put up with it or stay where she was and hope that John didn't speak again.

Not that she was annoyed. No. More agitated. The absence of suspicious activity and Hammet being… well, silent, there wasn't exactly much to do. Lestrade was also being quiet. And Sherlock had been _composing_. This would be absolutely fine, except for the minor issue of the quality of Sherlock's playing. On several occasions, even John had grimaced at the dodgy notes and the slips o the bow. Adele had seriously debated going out, but she couldn't be bothered, and then she'd be given a lecture about something or other. More trouble than it was worth.

So maybe Adele was annoyed. Eliza was being silent too. Just as well. So, to recap: Hammet was after almost everyone she knew, and everything relied upon Adele solving some probably impossible riddles. What could possibly go wrong?

'So you told Lestrade, right?' Adele had been meaning to ask Sherlock this. Thankfully he had stopped _composing_ now.

'Yes.'

'Wait, you told him before me?' John asked. Oh. Maybe sparking a lovers tiff right now wasn't the _best_ idea.

'Had too. Matter of importance.'

'I think that-'

'If it makes you feel better, John, you are important. But I don't think that's the point. I was going to make a point.'

'Go on then.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

'He's on his way here.'

'How do you know? How did I not know?' A terrified Sherlock was quite funny. Probably one of the funniest things Adele had ever seen.

'He texted me.' It was almost impossible to keep a straight face. Sherlock scowled. He checked his phone, frowning.

'He didn't text me.'

'Shame.' Adele yawned. 'I should have taken a picture, your face was priceless.' Even John was trying not to snigger. 'Jealous?' Sherlock shook his head. Yeah right.

'Did he say why?'

'No. He never says why until he gets here. At which point something bad normally happens. You know the drill.' The doorbell rang downstairs. John, being the type of person he was, went to answer it. Adele raised her eyebrows at Sherlock, who responded with a shrug. Adele caught the words _letter_ and _what's he playing at?_ Drifting up stairs. Letter? What letter? Who was sending letters and why did it have anything to do with them? Lestrade had now followed John into the room, and he actually looked amused. Okay. Considering that Lestrade had been on Hammet's list, and that Lestrade knew about all of that, it was probably sensible to assume that wither Sherlock hadn't told Lestrade that Hammet was after him, or that Lestrade was on drugs. One of the two.

'Short stuff. You've got a letter.'

'Don't call me that. Why did you have to come all the way over here to tell me that?'

'Because it's addressed to Scotland Yard, but it has your name on it, that's why. And what happened last time?'

'Sherlock got a letter and then we had some fun with bombs and Irish maniac. History doesn't always repeat itself, you know. We have yet to see a monarch with seven wives or another Third Reich.'

Lestrade just stared at her. So maybe that wasn't a normal response. Oops. Sherlock was sniggering, and John was frowning.

'I think you should have a look. In case it's anything to do with-'

'Hammet? Seemed like more of a texting person to me. I'll look at it, if it's addressed to me.'

'Good.' Lestrade stood there, as though waiting for something to happen. What did he expect? For her to go _now_? At nine in the morning? No way.

'Well?' Lestrade was still standing there.

'Well _what_?' Adele glanced at him. 'I'll be there later.'

'Why not now?'

'Because he,' Adele indicated Sherlock 'Doesn't want me to.'

'Really? And why-?'

'I have my reasons. John can go.' Sherlock grinned, pretty sarcastically at John. 'I'm sure he'd like a bit of time to engage in some normal conversation.'

'But I-' John started to protest. He should really have known better by now.

'Off you two go, have a nice time. We'll be there later.' He practically shoved John and Lestrade out of the door. 'And if either of you open that letter, I'll be seeing you in Bart's morgue.'

'Because we were going to open it anyway!' Lestrade yelled from downstairs. Sherlock waited until they were outside, before almost jumping into the air.

'It begins!'

'And that's good because…?'

'Because it means it ends sooner!'

'You make perfect sense.'

'I know I do.'

'But why is he sending letters?'

'Because you can trace texts. Remember? And calls. So he's slightly clever.'

'No cause for concern, then?'

'Not at all. Although we should probably be careful.

'And to think, this all started because you thought that jumping off a building made perfect sense.'

'I had too.'

'Well I can think of several other solutions to the problem, but you can have it your way, if it stops you from sulking. And why did you make John go with Lestrade?'

'Because I want thinking time. You can be quiet, but John has the amazing ability to interrupt every single important thought going through my brain.'

'Oh. Makes sense.'


	11. Chapter 11

_EXAMS ARE OVER. Except my MSWord expires in two days. Also, this is the last of what I've written ahead, so yeah._

_Enjoy, and I like and appreciate reviews!_

_:D_

_The game is on._

Sherlock eventually got bored of thinking. He didn't, however, decide to go to Scotland Yard. No. Instead, he spent a lot of time looking out of the window and being suspicious. Instead of bothering to ask what he was doing and why, Adele was reading and eating cola bottles. Much more interesting. A couple of times, she glanced up, but nothing was really happening. John had texted about twelve times, most of them asking when they would be at Scotland Yard. All of which Adele hadn't replied to. If John was that desperate, he would either call Sherlock or get Lestrade to do it. Chances were that Adele could get a lecture on answering her phone when they finally did turn up.

Sherlock finally declared it a good time to turn up at Scotland Yard. Bearing in mind that it had now been two and a half hours, it would probably be better if they just didn't go at all. Adele was still wondering about the letter. Or more like she have now begun to wonder about it properly, having simply pushed it out of her mind beforehand.

When they eventually got to Scotland Yard, Adele noted a mysterious absence of Donovan. Hm. So this was worrying. Hammet _had_ said that he would get either Donovan or Anderson first. Adele had secretly been hoping that it would be Anderson. Was that mean? Probably. But Anderson's stupidity was actually more insulting than Donovan's feeble attempts at insults. Anderson was hanging around, spying. Adele occasionally threw him a death glare, but decided not to waste any IQ points on Anderson.

Lestrade was in his office, talking to John. There was a letter on the table in between them, which was more interesting than the football, which was apparently the topic of conversation. Adele promptly walked in, grabbed the letter from the middle of the table, and attempted to rip it open.

'Hang on, we haven't had that-! Lestrade began to protest. Git.

'There wouldn't be explosives, idiot.' Adele shook her head.

'How do you-?'

'If you had a lovely elaborate scheme planned out, would you have me killed before the whole thing started? No. Exactly. You'd have me killed later. Or knowing you, not at all. But that's not really the point.' Lestrade at this point decided not to respond. Probably a good idea.

Sherlock was lingering in the background, not speaking. Out of the corner of her eye, Adele saw him grin quickly at John, before scowling again. So that seemed to be the set expression for the time being. Not that a scowling Sherlock was at all annoying.

Adele could also see Anderson trying to look in through the window. So they had an audience. Joy. Although Anderson didn't really count, considering that he was too thick to understand anyway.

Once she finally managed to open the letter, which had been sellotaped shut, Adele was conscious of pretty much everyone watching her.

'Talk amongst yourselves, this won't take a minute.' Adele said, while trying to take the paper out of the envelope without ripping it. Lestrade looked as though he was about to yell. Adele finally managed to get the letter out.

'Stop stalling.'

Adele glared at Sherlock. 'You open it then.' Sherlock shook his head. 'Thought so.' She unfolded the letter.

'What does it-?' John's voice pierced the silence.

Let me read it first. Adele glanced down at the letter and began to read;

_One snowy night, Sherlock Holmes was in his house sitting by a fire. All of a sudden a snowball came crashing through his window, breaking it. _

_Holmes got up and looked out the window just in time to see three neighborhood kids who were brothers run around a corner. Their names were John Crimson, Mark Crimson and Paul Crimson. The next day Holmes got a note on his door that read _"? Crimson. He broke your window."_ Which of the three Crimson brothers should Sherlock Holmes question about the incident?_

_And as an extra incentive, your friend Donovan is creating a ruckus, yelling and such. So hurry up. I can't wait to get rid of her. I'm feeling generous, so you can have twenty four hours. And I'll know when you're done._

'Give.' Sherlock snatched the letter from her hand, scanning it. He threw it back, his face full of disgust. Adele caught it, her mind working at twice its usual speed.

'Donovan… Lestrade, when was the last time you spoke to Donovan? And be precise.'

Lestrade took his time in answering. 'Day before yesterday. Why?'

'Because she's been kidnapped by Hammet and now I have to answer a riddle which for some strange reason includes Sherlock's name. Tell me when you last saw Donovan, Lestrade, and tell me now.'

Lestrade stared at her for several seconds. He really was an idiot. Adele was seriously considering punching him. Thankfully, he fished his phone from his pocket, and showed her a text.

'She's not here. Said she wasn't… Oh.' Lestrade's look of complete confusion became one of shock.

'Are we all on the same page?' Adele addressed the room, which currently consisted of herself, Sherlock, John who wasn't saying anything, and Lestrade. John and Lestrade nodded but Sherlock did nothing. Helpful.

'John. Give me an opinion.'

John jumped. 'What?'

'Do you think I should solve the riddle, or try to find him?'

'I think-' Sherlock began to speak.

'I asked John, shut up. John?'

John took his time. As per usual. 'Solve it?'

'You only said that because he was about to say it.'

'Well you could just ask-'

'I'm not asking Lestrade, he's too busy freaking out because Donovan is probably locked up somewhere. If he's so desperate to get an opinion in, he can speak now.'

Lestrade shook his head.

'No? Good. And can you tell Anderson to go away? He's spying on us.' Everyone looked at the door, where Anderson was standing awkwardly. Smooth.

'Anderson, go away.' Lestrade commanded. Who knew that Lestrade could actually exercise some control over his staff? Anderson scurried off. He was like a bloody human cockroach. It would probably benefit everyone a lot more of Hammet had taken him instead of Donovan. Donovan was annoying, yes, but Anderson possessed that amazing ability to lower anyone's IQ within two minutes of speech. If it were Anderson, Adele would probably have left solving the riddle at the back of her mind.

'Well I'm going to Bart's.' Sherlock muttered. Of course.

'Why?'

'I want to look at the envelope.'

'Take it.' Adele threw it in his direction. This was turning into a game of pass the parcel. 'I'm assuming that John wants to go too?'

'Erm-'John muttered. John probably just wanted to talk to Sherlock without any interruptions, but realistically, that was never going to happen.

'Good. You two go ahead, I'll meet you there.'

'Why am I staying here? Why can't you-?'

'And why are you not-?'

'I need to talk to Lestrade. Go ahead, and I'll catch you up.'

'But-'

'_Go_.' Sherlock scowled and left, probably trying to be over dramatic. And failing. John hurried after him, although not before he had a chance to give her what was probably the most questioning look of all time. As the door closed, Adele could have sworn that she heard the sound of someone standing on someone else's foot. Most likely Anderson.

Adele grinned at Lestrade, who just frowned. 'She'll be fine. I doubt he'd kill her anyway. He's an idiot.'

'I don't care, I-'

'Lestrade, do you honestly think that he'll use her as anything other than a threat?'

'Yes.'

'Well he won't. He might pretend to hurt her, but most likely he'll have her locked up. And he might try to provoke her. But I doubt he'll do anything worse.'

'I don't.'

'Moriarty didn't. He could have just had John or I killed, but he didn't. And Hammet is much less clever.'

'And if you can't solve the riddle, what happens?'

'You work for the police, I think you can get a few people looking for her.'

'Then why don't we do that now?'

'I think… I think he's trying to mess with our heads a bit. If we go after him now, we can arrest him and everything, but I know that I'm not the only person wanting to know what his point is. And he knows that Sherlock wants him questioned.'

Lestrade paused for a moment. 'How do _you_ know that?'

'I'm guessing.' Lestrade frowned. 'I don't enjoy it, you know. This isn't like last time, when he found it almost fun. I hate it. These are people I know. I don't like Donovan, but if he _does_ do anything, I'm not going to be happy.'

'So now he _might_ do something.'

'I'm guessing. I don't know.'

'But-'

'By all means spend the next twenty four hours sitting here going mad. I'll try to solve this.'

Adele tried (and most probably failed) to give Lestrade an encouraging smile.


	12. Chapter 12

It would probably have been a better idea to stay at Scotland Yard. This was because, as was inevitable when you went to Bart's, Molly was there. Of course, with Molly you were normally greeted by… Well, there was no other way to put it. Strange. Adele still found her stupidity quite amusing, but Molly didn't seem too catch on. And with Sherlock being oblivious to the fact that Molly fancied him, Adele generally couldn't spend a prolonged amount of time near Molly. Although Molly didn't know that.

John was, as per usual, was reading the paper. What was so interesting about it? If you wanted to know anything these days, the simple solution was to just ask Sherlock or annoy Lestrade. The quicker, of course, was the former, but it was much more fun to annoy Lestrade.

Sherlock nodded when she got there. Adele didn't even bother to return the gesture, instead deciding to see exactly what he was doing. Although it wasn't particularly interesting.

'You won't gain any information from looking at an envelope.'

'I will.'

'You expect him to have hidden secret messages? Bit far-fetched.'

'No. I'm expecting science.'

'DNA? It won't lead you anywhere. I still have to solve the stupid thing.'

'Well, I'm making it easier.'

'If you say so.' Adele decided that it would probably be more annoying than normal to be anywhere near Sherlock at the moment. John was a better option thus far. He was quiet. And Molly wasn't so keen to speak to him.

'Hello.'

John looked up from the paper. 'He's only trying to help.' He kept his voice low. 'It's more than he'd do for most people.'

'It's annoying. I don't need his superior intelligence.'

'What you mean is that you won't accept help because your determined to prove that you can do things better.'

'If you want to put it like that.'

John nodded. 'What did you say to Lestrade?'

'To stop freaking out.'

'And did he listen?'

'Take a guess.'

John nodded. 'Do you want me to go away?'

'You're only reading the paper. It's if you start talking, then I'll have to shoot you.'

He actually looked alarmed. The strange thing was, even Adele didn't know whether she was joking. Oops. 'I'm kidding, you know. I'm not _that_ crazy.'

John chose not to answer this. Probably the best idea, all things considered.

Had she been joking? Suddenly, Adele wasn't so sure. She could joke around about guns and stuff quite easily, but that wasn't the same. This would make her insane. Bloody insane.

Molly drifted in and out, occasionally muttering to Sherlock or John. But the room generally stayed quite, and for the first time, Adele actually managed to be productive. She'd used about ten pieces of paper, mostly for drawing random pictures, and had probably gotten about half way towards the answer.

_? Crimson broke the window. _

_Questions to ask: Who left the note? Could be a foe. Might be a liar. Could be a play one words. Stupid. But possible. Might not be a Crimson? Possible. Not specific. But surname was used. So must have been a Crimson. So which one? Any of three could have done it. _

_Names of brothers: John, Mark, Paul._

_All sound like idiots. Could have all done it? Unlikely. _

_Must have been one of the brothers._

_?. Could mean anything. ? could mean t question one of the Crimsons. As in 'Question the Crimsons.' But only one of them did it. Why? Said 'He'. One of them._

'Done?'

Adele jumped. She hadn't heard Sherlock walk up behind her. Git.

'I would be, if you weren't hovering in the background asking me that.'

'Do you want me to go?'

Adele suddenly realised that John had left. Ow ha she not noticed? She noticed things. So now her vague powers of notification were vanishing. Helpful. Really.

'Tell me where John is.'

'Flat.'

'And you're not?'

'No. I didn't think you'd want to be disturbed.'

'Until now, apparently.'

'You stopped writing for about five minutes. You could have solved it.'

Adele looked at her watch. She'd been working on the riddle for five hours, so she really should have solved it. Instead, she'd gotten pretty much nowhere.

'No. I'd tell you.'

Sherlock nodded and walked away. Hm. What Adele was really concerned with, minus the stupid riddle, was where Donovan was and how they were supposed to find her. And whether Lestrade was having a complete freak out or not. Adele was regretting her decision not to stay at Scotland Yard now. Watching Lestrade go crazy was a rare but hilarious opportunity.

_? Crimson. _

'What's going on?' Adele heard Molly asking what was probably the air, since Molly was completely unsure about who the charade was centered around. Rather than answering herself, she decided to let Sherlock do it.

'Puzzles. He's scaring her.'

Adele threw the pencil down. However much she tried, she couldn't figure it out. She only had about an hour, at the most.

'More like traumatising her. She's only just out of that hospital.' However hard she tried, Molly had never been able to whisper. Sherlock glanced at Adele, who responded with what could only be descirbed as a _death _glare, and then answered.

'I think that's the idea. One after the other.'

This time, several pieces of paper were shoved across the table. Adele slammed her head into her arms, on the verge of screaming at someone.

'It doesn't work! There isn't a _bloody_ answer! It can't be done!'

Sherlock walked over, glancing down at the papers. 'Think, Adele. There has to be an answer. He wouldn't give you something impossible.'

'He would. He'd find it hilarious.' She glanced upwards. 'Happy? You've done it! Shoot her, I don't _care_!' Once again, she dropped her head down. It actually really hurt. Maybe she should stop.

'Stop it. You're yelling at air, Adele. That's what he wants, he wants you to go mad. Don't let him win.'

'But it's impossible!'

'Give.'

Adele shoved the letter over.

_One snowy night, Sherlock Holmes was in his house sitting by a fire. All of a sudden a snowball came crashing through his window, breaking it. _

_Holmes got up and looked out the window just in time to see three neighborhood kids who were brothers run around a corner. Their names were John Crimson, Mark Crimson and Paul Crimson. The next day Holmes got a note on his door that read "? Crimson. He broke your window." Which of the three Crimson brothers should Sherlock Holmes question about the incident?_

'Why's he used _your_ name?'

'It's not important. I can't do it for you, Adele, you know that.'

'Then let him shoot, I don't care.'

'I know for a fact that you do care. Look, it's that note on the door. That's the important bit.'

'We already _know_ that one of the Crimson bothers broke the window.'

'So which one? I can't help any more than that.'

'Question... All three of them? But it doesn't relate...'

She cast her mind around. Question. Question. Question mark? That was what the symbol was called. Question mark. Question mark. Question... Mark...

'Question mark! That's it, that's the answer! Mark Crimson! Question _Mark_! Right?' Adele practically yelled at him. Unfortunately, Sherlock wasn't exactly much help.

'If you think so.'

'Oh thanks. Donovan's life only depends on it.'

'You don't like her.'

'No. Good point. How am I supposed to tell him that I've solved it?'

'He's left a phone number on the back of the paper.'

'Oh. I knew that.'

Thankfully, the phone number was for a mobile, so Adele could text Hammet. If she heard is voice at the moment, she would probably end up hunting him down and shooting him through the head. Out of the corner of her eye, Adele could have sworn that she saw a blond kid hanging around outside the door of the lab, but as soon as she had blinked, whoever it was had disappeared. Strange.

_It's Mark Crimson. Tell me where she is._

Adele decided against putting her name at the end of the text. Hammet, it seemed, was being attentive, because she replied in the next minute.

_You're really boring. She's at the school sports hall. I like consistency in my hideouts, Holmes._

'School. Again.'

Sherlock almost jumped up and ran off, forcing Adele to catch up. Molly started stuttering something or other, but Adele ignored her. Molly was currently not a priority. No way. Sherlock was waiting outside, holding open the door of a taxi.

'I've seen enough of these things.' Adele muttered, climbing in. She seriously had.

Why had he gone back there? Hammet was probably being lazy. Or he thought that the sports hall would scare her. So he'd basically tried to kill her there, big deal. He hadn't exactly succeeded. Truth be told, he'd done an awful job.

The taxi was pretty quick. For a taxi. Sherlock insisted on stopping it about ten minutes' walk away from the school. Suspicious git. Adele made a point of rolling her eyes at him, which made him look really annoyed.

'What do we do about Donovan then?'

Adele thought about it for a few seconds. 'Sneak up on Hammet, hit him over the head and run.'

'And after that?'

Adele grinned. 'That's the fun part.'

Sherlock didn't see the funny side to that. 'You have to take it seriously.'

'That's boring. And planning never does us any favors.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you planned to trick Moriarty, and look at where we are now.' Sherlock didn't seem to have an answer to that. 'My point exactly.'

Adele could swear that she kept seeing the same blond kid every so often. Where they following her? No. She was getting paranoid. Instead of pointing it out, she ignored it.

The sports hall, from the outside, didn't look very threatening. Well, to Adele, that was. To Sherlock, apparently it was a big scary torture chamber of death. Or something like that, because he inisisted on calling Lestrade and John.

'Why?'

'Lestrade's mental state, John was in the army.'

'Because he'll try to shoot again.'

'Unoriginal. He's dangerous.'

Lestrade and John turned up, although Lestrade wasn't really Lestrade. He kept muttering to himself, which was annoying Adele. A lot. So much that she eventually snapped.

'Lestrade, shut up.'

John and Sherlock looked as though they were trying not to laugh, and Lestrade looked annoyed. Adele glared at him until he muttered an apology.

'Better.'

The four of them crept into the sports hall, only to find that it was a waste of effort. Hammet was standing there, with all the lights on, whistling. Donovan was standing in the corner, and Adele could make out what appeared to be lasers pointing at her head. Oh, he had help. Great.

'You solved it then?' Adele could tell that Lestrade had flinched. Sherlock appeared to be trying not to attack Hammet, and John was prepared to shoot. 'They can relax, I won't do anything. I play fair, you know. Well, Hansel might try, but _I_ wouldn't.'

'Hansel?'

'I thought I might make them useful. Gretel's _supposed_ to be scaring you, but she's rebellious. I should have a word with her.'

'Save the effort, please.'

'It'll be worth it.' He glanced upwards. 'Hansel? You can go now, she's solved it. Sorry.'

'Can we have Donovan now? Or are we going to have tea and biscuits? Only Lestrade's going crazy.'

'Have her.' He began to stroll off. 'I'll send another one soon, yes? I bet you enjoy this, Holmes. But they aren't all ridiculously easy.' Hammet practically danced out of the door. 'Enjoy!'

Everyone seemed frozen. Adele looked at Lestrade. 'Well go and get her. You might have forgotten, but we sort of hate each other. John, poke him.'

John gave Lestrade an awkward prod in the back. 'No, like this.' Adele punched Lestrade in the arm. He gasped out in pain. 'Exactly.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Adele could see Sherlock and John exchange grins.

_Me again! Um… This took ages… I've had writer's block, so…_

_No excuses._

_So: Review? If that's cool?_

_Because if you do, Adele gets cola bottles. And Sherlock gets nicotine patches. And John gets to stare at Sherlock in a trance._

_Review if you like cookies! If you like awesomeness! Red Pandas! Anything!_

_Byeeee! :D_


	13. Chapter 13

_Before we begin: So I gave Adele the age of fourteen at first. Change of plan. She's now thirteen, because a) She doesn't act like a fourteen year old, and b) I can't see her as fourteen anymore. Just remember that, because past stuff comes up here. And Sherlock and Lestrade have known each other for five years, according to the interwebs. There are some slight problems with timings in the first one, but yeah._

'Hansel and Gretel.'

Adele glanced up at Sherlock to find him staring into space. Thinking? Most likely. Or more, having an argument with himself in his head.

'It's a stupid kid's story, isn't it?'

'Yes. It was in the book I re-wrote, but it was too unrealistic to bother looking at.'

'If you say so. What happened in it?'

'Two children and an evil stepmother, breadcrumbs and breaking and entering. Not worth my time.'

Well. Could be, considering that Hammet now had kids called Hansel and Gretel out to get them. Unless he'd just used the names.

'Where these kids blond, by any chance?'

'No idea. Why?'

'Wondering why he chose those names.' No normal mother called their kids Hansel and Gretel, for God's sake. 'Scaring us? Or me?'

'Who knows?'

Sherlock, John and Adele were sitting around a table in Scotland Yard. Donovan had been surprisingly calm about the whole thing, although Adele had been on the receiving end of a lot of evil looks and muttered insults. Lestrade had begun to look conflicted so John, being John, had told him to explain to Donovan without any interruption from either Sherlock or Adele, and try to ask her what had actually happened. Then, as Lestrade had so kindly put it, _then the smartasses have a go_. This had been met by a scowl from Adele. Anderson was still hovering around, which was more funny than annoying. Watching him trying and failing to slip under Sherlock's radar was hilarious, and John looked ready to punch him. Although Adele would probably beat him to it.

'I don't see the point.'

Lestrade walked in just as Sherlock was about to speak. Sherlock scowled at him, but didn't object to Lestrade sitting down. Sherlock probably appreciated having Lestrade helping anyway, considering that Mycroft wasn't going to be much use. It would be helpful to find out exactly where he stood, but chances were that Mycroft wouldn't give a proper answer. Most likely, he would say that he did it for some reason that would be beneficial in the long run, and then launch into some sort of lecture about something or other, only for everything to drag and an entire day to be wasted. Adele made a mental note to ask Sherlock or John to go and ask.

'Why is he doing this?' Adele could tell that Lestrade's question was directed at her. To be perfectly honest, she didn't really know herself. She shrugged and nodded in Sherlock's direction.

'No idea. He might know.'

Sherlock looked up. 'What? Why?' Lestrade also looked pretty confused.

'Well, Mycroft's involved, isn't he?' Only Sherlock appeared to understand. Adele had forgotten that neither John nor Lestrade had been there when Hammet had explained. Or sort of explained. 'You weren't there. He's friends with 'Lock's brother. Make of that what you will.'

Lestrade frowned, as did John. Adele was trying not to smirk, but it was difficult. Sherlock looked murderous. Great.

'So his brother is involved?' Lestrade asked slowly.

Adele shrugged again. 'Doubt it, but he still might be. Or at least, he might be able to inform us as to why Hammet's bothering with this.'

'Have any of you spoken to him?'

'Of course not. It's Mycroft. First things first, none of us want to speak to him. Second, John probably won't appreciate being sent to talk to him again. Third, he won't give us an actual answer, and forth, if he is involved, we leave ourselves in a position in which Mycroft might tell Hammet and then Hammet will do something else.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Do you have any evidence to suggest that no one wants to speak to him?'

'Yes. You're his brother, and you two don't exactly get along. John gets annoyed when you make him go and find Mycroft, so that rules him out. Mycroft and Lestrade? As far as I'm aware, they've never met. And Mycroft thinks I'm a pain. And I think he's a condescending idiot. There's no one else.'

'Alright, enough. What about Hansel and Gretel?'

'Two kids he's got out to freak Adele out. One of them clearly doesn't want to, or finds it boring. So we might be able to use that.' Sherlock was staring at the ceiling as he spoke, occasionally letting his eyes flicker down to the table.

'How?' Lestrade sounded sceptical.

'Get the kid over here, interrogate them.'

'Then what?'

'Think, Lestrade. They won't be any use to us. We can easily assume that the kids' old enough to be locked up.'

'You want me to frighten a child?'

'With all honesty, you were pretty scary when I first met you.' Adele grinned at Lestrade. 'Shouldn't be too difficult.'

'Thanks. But-'

'And remember, it is your job. And the quicker you do it, the less likely it is that he'll hurt more people.'

'_What?_'

Had Sherlock not mentioned this? Damn. 'Hammet said he'd get pretty much everyone I know. If you act quickly, chances are he won't be able to. Sherlock, did you actually tell him anything past Donovan?'

'He said-?'

'I forgot to tell you, sorry.' Sherlock piped up. He didn't look sorry at all, more highly amused. Lestrade looked petrified, and John had a just plain concerned. 'It's not important, anyway. John?'

John looked up, surprised. 'Hm?'

'Opinions?'

'Oh. Well. We _could_ ask Mycroft. I mean, I don't mind asking him.'

'You don't mind? You're prepared to sit in the same room as him for more than five minutes and actually have a conversation?' Adele asked in surprise. Mycroft wasn't as annoying as Anderson or Donovan, but he was still an idiot.

'It might benefit us.'

Adele shrugged. 'On your own head be it.' John didn't even respond to that. Adele turned to Sherlock instead. 'Why's Mycroft co-operating with Hammet?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Doing each other favours?'

'That's one of the great things about you. So specific.'

'I am specific. When I have enough information.'

'When do you want me to talk to Mycroft, then?' John asked, his voice slightly raised. Lestrade looked slightly annoyed.

Adele hadn't ever really liked nor disliked Lestrade. He could be incredibly annoying and quite stupid, but sometimes he wasn't too bad. The first time she had met him, Adele had decided almost immediately that he wasn't as clever as Sherlock, and that he wasn't worth speaking to. That, and the fact that Lestrade obviously didn't have much experience with children. Especially children with more knowledge than himself. Because of this, Adele had refrained from speaking to him for weeks, until she had become so bored that she had to talk to him. Either Lestrade or Anderson, and anyone could guess which was a better conversation.

'Today. Now.' Sherlock wasn't even looking at John. In fact, he was staring out of the window. John rolled his eyes.

'Okay then.' He got up and went over to the door. 'Hang on- What am I supposed to say?'

'Ask if he has anything to do with all of this. But don't be so direct.'

'Right.' John left. Now only Sherlock, Adele and Lestrade remained. Adele decided that she should probably have a word with Donovan. Hammet might have mentioned something, and if Donovan had heard it, Adele would _hopefully_ be one stop ahead.

'Donovan.'

'Yes. You want to talk to her?'

'Obviously.'

'Be nice. She's just had a gun pointed at her head, remember.'

'Fine. Is that code for both of us to pretend to be really sympathetic?'

'Yes. Be nice. I mean it.'

Adele sighed. When would Lestrade learn that being nice was boring and not going to get them anywhere? Probably never. Still, she followed Lestrade and Sherlock next door, to find Donovan glaring at her.

'Freak junior.'

This wasn't fair. 'You said I had to be nice!' Adele almost yelled at Lestrade. Lestrade, conflicted, shrugged.

'Just try to have a conversation without either of you yelling too much. _Both_ of you.' Adele glared at him, but Sherlock gave her a warning look. He was going to be nice? This would be interesting.

'Fine. You might as well just let Sherlock do that talking.' Adele crossed her arms and glared back at Donovan, who looked pleased with herself. Idiot.

'I will. This will be quick, don't worry. Couple of questions for you, if that's okay, Sally?'

She nodded, although Adele doubted Donovan would actually answer them.

'Did you see two blond children while you were there?'

'One.'

'And…?'

'Boy. Blond.'

'We know that. Anything else?'

'He was just sitting there. Didn't say much.' In her head, Adele swore. Sherlock seemed happy with this. Hm.

'Thanks. Lestrade, we're going now. Chances are that we'll see you later.'

Lestrade began to protest, but Adele gave him a warning look. She shot a grin at Donovan, who responded with a death glare, and followed Sherlock out.

'So that was…?' She asked, once they were outside.

'Mildly useful. I think John might have gotten more out of Mycroft, though.'

'Don't get your hopes up. It's Mycroft.'

As a taxi pulled up, Adele could have sworn that out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blond kid once more.

_As always, I like reviews! _

_I give you cookies!_

_Yay! Hope you liked it!_


	14. Chapter 14

John wasn't at the flat when Sherlock and Adele got back. Adele was tempted to call him and ask to speak to Mycroft herself, but John probably wouldn't appreciate it. And Mycroft would get really annoyed. But annoying Mycroft was fun. Except it would involve way too much effort. So Adele decided against it.

Adele entertained herself by sitting at her laptop for the next hour. Sherlock was _composing_, so Adele had also put on headphones. He's probably stop once John got back, since Adele could tell that John found it equally annoying. But that wouldn't be the reason. He'd stop because John would have news from Mycroft, which would be interesting.

About an hour later, John finally did return. He looked incredibly tired, and a look of almost dread washed over his face when Sherlock practically threw his violin onto a chair. S

'Before either of you ask, he's not saying anything.' John gave Adele a warning look as she opened her mouth to speak. 'Nothing.'

'Then why did you take so long?' If Mycroft had said nothing, then John would presumably have just left.

'I actually tried. Without resorting to violence.'

It was already getting dark outside. Adele hadn't checked the time for ages, and was surprised to see that it was actually nine. Well, the day hadn't been wasted.

'How's he giving you the next one?'

Adele looked up to see John basically talking to the table. 'Oh. Text?'

'And you're going to try to solve them, not find him?'

'If I solve them, we have more time to work out why he's doing this. And if I co-operate, then he doesn't have an excuse to use someone's brains as wallpaper.'

John nodded. Eventually, he went off, probably in need of some quiet. Sherlock had gone back to messing around with his violin. Most likely he wouldn't even register Adele's presence for some time, so she was okay to stay. And then he'd point the bow at her until she went to her room. Same old routine, boring as ever.

Adele eventually got pretty bored, so decided that her room was probably much more peaceful. Sherlock was still playing the violin well into the night, and by midnight, Adele had had enough. The constant noise was giving her a headache, and it didn't help that she had trouble sleeping as it was. A box of unopened sleeping tablets was still sitting on her bedside table, although Adele hated them. Stuff like that never really worked, so she'd just gotten used to staying up until about three in the morning with a book, and then nodding off until six, and reading again. On the upside, Adele had gotten through quite a lot of books, and was very well, if slightly over read. On the downside, lack of sleep wasn't exactly healthy.

Adele knew exactly when she actually needed sleep, and while she recognised that it wasn't a good idea not to listen to her brain, she still didn't obey any of its commands. Although with all these riddles and what looked to be a lot of chasing blond children employed by Hammet, it might be a good idea to at least _try_ to sleep. Would it be possible? Probably. But it wasn't exactly something Adele wanted to do, so no doubt she'd resist. This was ridiculous. She was fighting with her own brain.

Eventually however, Adele managed to fall asleep.

'_Lock?'_

_Sherlock looked up from his book, only to find Adele staring him in the face. She grinned mischievously and jumped up onto the sofa, trying to make herself look as serious as possible. Sherlock put down the book, but reluctantly. _

'_Yes?'_

_Adele scowled. She was secretly pleased that she had annoyed him. 'D'you believe in faeries?'_

_Sherlock picked the book up from the floor, frowning. 'Faeries don't exist, Adele. You know that.'_

'_Well, they- Are you listening?' Sherlock had gone back to the book, trying to find the page. Adele grabbed the book and, using all her strength, threw it to the other side if the room. Sherlock tried to get up to retrieve it, only for Adele to cling onto his arm until he sat down again. The best way to annoy and get him to do whatever she wanted. It worked, because Sherlock sat back down. _

'_Faeries really don't exist, Adele. They do in stories, but that's completely different. Stories are made up. They aren't real.'_

'_But they_ do_, 'Lock, I seen-'_

'_You can't possibly believe in faeires, Adele. Scientifically it's impossible. You really should know-'_

'_Science doesn't rule the world, silly, the-'_

'_Adele. Science is-'_

_Adele decided to carry on anyway. 'And the faeries look like borrowers, but with wings, and they're very pretty, and-'_

_Sherlock shook his head. 'What are you going on about faeries for?'_

'_Well I was just wondering if you'd seen them, because-'_

_Once again, Sherlock shook his head. Adele glared at him as he spoke, as though using her eyes to challenge him. 'Of course I haven't seen faeries, whatever gave you-?'_

'_Oh. Okay then.' Adele jumped back off the sofa and picked up another book that was lying on the floor. Sherlock, however, had other ideas. He picked her up and sat her back on the sofa, causing Adele to try desperately to kick him in an effort to escape what looked to be a lecture of some sort. _

'_If you don't believe in faeries, then there's no point in-'_

'_Then why did you ask about them?' Sherlock was being very serious about this. _

'_Well I was wondering, obviously! Bye now.'_

_Sherlock, however, wouldn't let her escape. 'Explain.'_

_Adele sighed. 'There's no point if you don't believe in them! You probably don't even spell it right!'_

_Sherlock just looked confused now. Adele nodded eagerly, encouraging him to prove her right. He raised one eyebrow, but went ahead anyway. 'F-A-I-R-Y, isn't it?'_

'_Wrong!'_

_Sherlock shook his head. 'No, that's how-'_

'_It's not.'_

'_This is silly, Adele. Faeries don't even exist.'_

'_Yes they do!'_

'_No. Like God. God doesn't exist, does he?'_

'_Well no, but I've never seen God, so obviously he can't exist. But I've seen faeries, so they do!'_

_Sherlock continued to disagree and shake his head. 'You can't have seen them. They don't exist. Unless you give me solid proof, I won't believe you.'_

'_I has! Grey man has faerie, he has it in his ear, and it's a blue faerie!'_

_Sherlock looked plain confused now. 'What? Who are you talking-?'_

'_You know, grey man! It's 'cos he's having an affair with the man downstairs, and-'_

'_Grey man?'_

_Adele was getting annoyed now. How did he not know? 'You know, grey man what comes and tells you things and not works them out for himself and-'_

'_You mean…? Oh. I see… Lestrade. How do you know about the affair with the-?'_

'_Transparent, silly.'Strade!'_

_Sherlock suddenly looked worried. 'Don't tell him about that, okay?'_

_Adele ignored him completely. ''Strade is silly, he not realise that it be bad for the childs, and-'_

'_What children? He doesn't have any-'_

'_No, but he could do, and that would be bad. Now if you don't mid, I'm going to bed. Make sure you don't turn the light off later, dark is a bad thing.'_

_Adele jumped off the sofa, picking up a book and flicking through the pages to check whether she had read it yet. Sherlock glanced at his book, which was on the other side of the room, and probably wasn't worth trying to retrieve. _

'_What time is it, anyway?' He checked his watch, and made a slightly annoyed face. 'Adele, was this just a way to get me to let you stay up longer?'_

'_That's beside the point. Goodbye, non-believer!' Adele tried to run off, but Sherlock's expression caught her. Instead, she took a step every time it looked as though he wasn't looking. _

'_Adele-'_

'_I said good night!' Adele almost sprinted the last few steps out of the room. _

A/N

I realised that I hadn't written anything in a while, so, um, memory. Sorry, not my best work. But I appreciate reviews, whether it be constructive criticism or anything. I hope you enjoyed this, and see you soooon!

:D


	15. Chapter 15

Adele, after actually sleeping properly, decided that it was definitely a good idea to try it more often. How easy that was going to be, she wasn't sure, but it wasn't something she would try to resist in the future. Adele's relatively good mood, however, was ruined by the red light flashing on her phone. Considering that no one ever texted her unless it was Sherlock being stupid or John asking about Sherlock being stupid, it was most likely to be from Hammet. Although Adele would have thought that even an evil git like him might give her a day off. Of course, it might not actually be Hammet, but it was best to assume the worst.

Adele, instead of checking the message, threw the phone at the wall. Avoiding the message gave her more time to… well, to ignore Hammet. But it wasn't easy to ignore, because the alert light on her phone was probably one of the most annoying things of all time. She picked the phone up, but hesitated before checking it. She could just take the battery out, but she'd only have to put it back in later. When she checked the message, however, it wasn't from Hammet. Instead, it was from Eliza;

_Reply to this is you're alive. And hope you're okay and stuff._

Adele had actually forgotten about Eliza's existence in the whole Hammet charade. She probably owed it to Eliza to reply, but then she would have to have a conversation, with Eliza. And she'd already had to put up with that. Still. She could just text back, say she wasn't, well, dead, and then ignore anything else. Yes, she would do that.

_Alive. And yes._

_A._

Adele realised that the back of her phone had come off, probably when it was flying through the air. She spotted it next to her desk, and picked it up. As she was about to put the phone back together, she heard the front door slam. What time was it? She glanced at her watch. Eleven. Well, that was half a day wasted. It was probably John; Sherlock was likely to have sent him to get milk. Adele decided that it might be a good idea to go and see what she'd missed.

'Where've you been?' John asked, as he struggled to carry bags of shopping into the kitchen, where Sherlock had set up another sort of experiment.

'My room. I'll take a wild guess and assume that _you've _been shopping.'

'Yeah.' John glanced towards Sherlock, who was pretty much oblivious to anything. 'He's been yelling at the TV all morning. I don't mind him correcting the news, but I'd rather he was quiet about it.'

'Get used to it.'

John shrugged and followed Adele into the living room, where the news was still playing. It was only politics, but Adele could see Sherlock frowning as he worked. Adele had never found politics very interesting, so she instead turned to the newspaper. That wasn't any better. If you wanted news these days, the best idea was to just go and talk to Lestrade. Well, if you wanted news on which criminals Scotland Yard was trying and failing to catch.

'Is Hammet taking a day off?' Sherlock called from the kitchen. He looked pretty much furious now.

'Looks like it.'

'Good.' Adele shook her head and went back to her phone. She would go and get her laptop, but it was in her room, and her phone had internet anyway. Even though it was slow and rubbish, most likely from the amount of times it had been thrown around. Maybe she should get a new one. Although chances were that Sherlock wouldn't get her one.

Baker Street was getting increasingly boring. Sherlock looked to be doing his experiment all day, and John was happy sitting around doing nothing. Adele was becoming increasingly restless, and was incredibly bored. London was fairly desolate today, and it might be nice to go outside for once. Adele got up and made it halfway down the stairs before being questioned.

'Where are you going?' Sherlock apparently had eyes everywhere. Adele sighed.

'Out.'

'Where?'

'Anywhere. If I run into Hammet, I'll be sure to inform you.'

Sherlock clearly wasn't happy with that. Still, there wasn't much he could do. He probably knew perfectly well that Adele would just throw a tantrum. And then he would have to deal with it. But he didn't reply, so Adele left, slamming the door purposely behind her.

It was nice to leave the flat. Granted, there wasn't actually much to do, but Adele had money, her oyster card, and several of Lestrade's ID's. Her first thought was Scotland Yard, but she didn't fancy talking to Lestrade or Donovan. Especially Donovan.

Adele's second idea was Bart's. Not the most exciting, _and_ she would have to see Molly, but there would be science and quiet. Okay, maybe that was out too.

There was one other option.

Hammersmith.

Really, Adele should hate the place. Several times she'd almost been killed there. And Hammet might be hanging around. But there might be clues or something. And it would be fun. What was life without a little risk? And…

She could see Eliza. Whatever happened to ignoring her? It was strange, but there was now a part of Adele that wanted a friend. Sherlock was a friend, yes. John was a friend. Even Lestrade and Molly were friends. But none of them were her own age, and none of them actually talked to her like someone her own age. Eliza might have been annoying and slightly naive, but she was okay to talk to, and actually, Adele sort of enjoyed being hero-worshipped. Of course, that might have changed, but still. A friend might be nice. Eliza was the one person Adele could actually show off her intelligence to, considering that John had seen it all before, and Lestrade zoned out every time Adele began correcting him.

Hammersmith it was. Eliza had, of course, texted her back from earlier;

_Good. Because last time, you were a bit half dead._

Another problem with Eliza. Her texts were incredibly unimaginative. Adele could think of much better replies than that. Still.

The tube was empty. Adele still kept thinking she saw the blond girl everywhere. She probably was, but no one was springing up out of nowhere and attacking her, so it was safe to assume that Hammet _was_ taking a day off today. Of course, this being Hammet, there was also a chance that he would spring up out of nowhere at any given moment. Maybe there was a reason for Sherlock's reluctance to allow her out of the flat. But she couldn't stay there forever, not with all the quiet and the news going on and on about something or other that she really didn't care about. It might have sounded insane, but she would actually rather take her chances outside.

Hammersmith still looked bleak and depressing. Of course, so did most places in London, but Hammersmith particularly. Adele's memory was working well today, so finding Eliza's wasn't difficult. She'd walked past several times, and the place didn't really make much of an impression. Eliza was likely to be in; it wasn't as though she did much else with her time, by the looks of things. Adele didn't hesitate to ring the bell. And true to her suspicions, Eliza answered the door.

'You... Adele, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell are you doing here?'

'Good question. There's nothing to do at the flat. And I don't want to talk to Lestrade.'

'Oh. So...'

'Really, my life isn't that exciting. And I know you're not busy, you answered the door ridiculously quickly.'

Eliza frowned. 'Well. I was sort of doing home-'

Adele pressed her foot against the door as Eliza tried to inch it closed. 'You come out here, or I go into your house. We both know the better option. Don't try to lie to me. It doesn't work.'

Eliza sighed. 'You're lucky there's no one else in.'

'You'd say yes anyway.'

Eliza shrugged as they began to walk down the road. 'I thought you might hate this place after... well, y'know.'

'No. Just that school place.' Eliza was just frowning. Was everyone going to do that? It was getting quite annoying to be around people constantly frowning. She wanted to know stuff. Explanations. Great.

'Why are you here, anyway?' As predicted. Adele didn't really want to explain the riddles and Sherlock being Sherlock. Or John being worried or the blond kids running around the place. In fact, it looked as though Adele would be spending the majority of the day lying. Oh well. Not like she hadn't done it before.

'Bored.' Eliza didn't even seem surprised. 'And I want to know what you said to Sherlock.'

'What?'

'Even the comatose aren't deaf. You said it yourself, as I remember, that you knew that I could hear you.'

'Oh. Well…'

'I'm really trying not to call you a _stupid little wishful thinker_ at the moment.'

Eliza scowled, so Adele continued. 'I can't believe I didn't work it out. Your sister.' Adele added the last sentence when Eliza gave her a blank look.

'Oh. Well, I mean… I think, something you mentioned, about after he-' Adele cut Eliza off with a scowl. Sherlock hadn't actually died, but there was something about it that still freaked her out.

'Anyway, I didn't say much to him. Mostly John. And still not much.' She was telling the truth. Sherlock didn't do much talking at the best of times, so it was incredibly unlikely that he'd done much then. But John did speak, so that was weird. But it didn't matter. There were more important things to focus on.

'Adele…?'

After about two minutes of silence, Adele's head snapped up. The pavement had become rather dull now. 'Yeah?'

'What's the real reason you're here?'

There were several answers to that. To check that Hammet hadn't gone after her again. Because she was bored. Because… well, because for the first time in her life, Adele actually wanted a friend.

'I don't know. To apologise?' This was one she'd only thought up about a second ago.

'For what?'

'Um, Hammet going after you and stuff. I shouldn't try to make friends again.'

'Oh. Well, sorry for telling him where you were. Are you… okay?'

'It's not your fault. No offence or anything, but I would've done the same if he had guns pointed at Sherlock and John.'

Eliza nodded. 'Answer the question.'

'What question?'

'Are you okay?'

Why did Eliza have to ask her questions that Adele simply couldn't answer without saying something she really shouldn't? 'I'm… fine.'

'That's not true.'

'Why did you ask if you knew it wasn't true?'

'So it's not true!'

'I didn't say that.'

When three o'clock came, Adele decided that it would probably be a good idea to go back to the flat. She said goodbye to Eliza, and took the tube back. There was an annoying back road that Adele hated on the way to the flat, but it was much quicker to go through it rather than all the way round. Adele could still see, or at least imagine, what looked to be a blond boy running around the place every so often.

Was it a stupid idea to go down the back road? Yes. Then why was she doing it? It was broad daylight, so there was nothing that could go wrong. Then again, no one really walked down this road, so… This wasn't a good idea.

Adele could hear footsteps now. So there _was_ someone else here. Great. Were they dangerous? They probably would be. Just as she was considering whether to run or turn back, Adele found herself face to face with a blond boy.

He was clearly about her own age; but he was slightly taller, and well built. If it came to a fight, which it probably would, he would win easily. His cheeks were flushed red, probably from running, and he wore football boots. With studs. Shit. The expression on his face was one of both surprise and glee; so he'd been waiting for her. This could, _must_ be one of the kids Hammet was on about. Hansel.

'Well?' Adele was almost whispering. She was _scared_. He would hit her. And it would hurt. She couldn't exactly fight him, her ribs were still bruised. This was going to hurt.

'I'll kill you, Holmes.'

'Stop stalling and get on with it, then.'

Well that was a stupid thing to say. As soon as she said it, he ran at her. Adele tried to jump out of the way, but he grabbed her ankle, pushing her to the ground. His fist narrowly missed the side of Adele's face. Taking advantage, Adele grabbed _his_ ankle. She succeeded in pulling him down too, but he still managed to hit her only millimetres from the shot wound. Adele cried out in pain, as he slammed his fist against her face repeatedly. He paused for a moment, and Adele grabbed her pen knife from her pocket, flicking out the blade. She pulled herself up, somehow, and held out the blade inches from his face.

'I'm armed.' She choked out. This wasn't going well. The blade didn't seem to scare him, because he held out his fists defiantly.

'Scared?'

Adele couldn't work a knife in these conditions. She dropped it to the floor and kicked it away, ready to fight. She could feel the bruises forming. Instead of swinging a punch, he ran towards where she'd kicked the knife. Furious, Adele stumbled after him, but he was too far ahead, and she'd twisted her ankle when she fell over. He grabbed the blade from the floor, turned around and pointed it at her as Adele backed against the wall. He held it inches from her face.

'Want me to kill you now?'

Every cell of Adele hurt. She whimpered, as he grinned evilly, hitting her once again, this time in the exact place of the wound. She was close to tears now.

'OI!'

The boy spun around, giving Adele a chance to slide to the ground. It now hurt to breathe. Even though Adele's vision was becoming blurred, she could see another kid, a girl. Same blond hair, and colouring, but that was where their similarities ended. She was lithe, graceful, the way she moved… it was as if she was barely there.

'_What_?' The boy was moaning

'You're not supposed to kill her yet, you idiot!' She seemed to be half whispering, half shouting, like an old television set. She looked over at Adele, her eyes sharp 'That's not the plan.'

'Well what was the plan?' He sounded incredibly irritated.

'_Just, hurt her_!' She hissed at him. 'Don't you ever listen? More of those tricks tomorrow!'

Tomorrow? Adele knew that she wouldn't be doing much tomorrow, if she even lived to see it.

'Well you try to beat her up, it's easy!' The boy protested 'He _said_ she'd be difficult!'

The girl smiled.

'If she's easy…' She said, walking toward him. In one swift movement, her hand was at his jugular.

'Then go _easy_ on her!' She growled. 'Remember how this falls on _me_? I know there's less than half a brain in that head, but _really_!'

'Fine! I'll tell him it was my fault, if it's such a big deal!'

She smiled again, and threw his neck from her grasp.

'Good.' Suddenly, her face was up in front of Adele's.

'If it was up to me?' She said, grinning. 'You wouldn't be here at all. Be thankful, _Addie_.' She turned to the boy. 'Can I trust you to only knock her out?'

'Yes.'

'Get it over with.'

Adele curled into a ball as he strode over. 'Please…'

'Just doing my job, Holmes.'

Adele shut her eyes. It was bad enough to feel the blow, watching it would make it worse. There was no point even trying to resist as she felt the boys boot collide with her head.

_Chapter-ness!_

_I'm going off on an evil camping thing-y tomorrow, so I won't be doing any writing until Tuesday. But I will write at the speed of light when I get back!_

_Reviews always appreciated!_


	16. Chapter 16

When Adele awoke, the room was familiar. Painfully familiar. Turning to see Sherlock at her side, she grimaced at him.

'I told you never to put me in here again.' She said grumpily.

Sherlock looked amused, if anything.

'It's a different hospital.' He said.

Adele didn't reply, instead sat up in the hospital bed and blinked. The room stank of cleanliness, medicines. Adele decided she hated that smell. It was white too.

'Why does every single hospital room look exactly the same?' She asked.

'Because it's a hospital, they just do. I'm more interested in what happened to-'

As he spoke, a small woman in pink scrubs came through the door, John following behind her. Adele raised her eyebrows. She seemed young to be a doctor. A nurse, then. The nurse ginned brightly as Adele made eye contact.

'Looks like someone's up!' She said cheerfully, glancing at Sherlock briefly. Adele sighed, losing all faith in the woman at that point.

'Americans.' She sighed. John gave her a warning look, but the woman had either not heard her or pretended not to.

'So, how're you feeling, Adele?' She asked, coming over to the bed.

Adele looked at Sherlock. He had allowed his woman know her name? Sherlock wasn't looking at her. Adele sighed and turned back to the nurse.

'I'm fine.' Adele said definitely. Since Sherlock seemed to have gone to his mind palace without warning, Adele turned her glare to John 'Why exactly am I here?'

The woman opened her mouth, but John spoke before she could.

'You pulled a couple of stiches, so they took care of that, but it's mainly bruising and…' He trailed off as the Nurse looked around at him. 'I'm, really encroaching on your territory, aren't I?'

'Little bit.'

'Yep. Sorry.' John looked down and Adele seized the moment to roll her eyes while no one was looking her way.

'We've just had to patch you up a little.' The Nurse said with a smile. 'Oh, my name's Kaylee, by the way. John's been telling me all about you.'

Adele looked at John in alarm. So did Sherlock. Apparently the woman wasn't a complete idiot, as she seemed to cotton on to something being wrong.

'Not anything bad, I mean, just that you all live here in London, not… bad… stuff.' Kaylee glanced at John, then back at the other two. As quickly as it had gone, her cheerful demeanour reappeared.

'Well, unfortunately, them doctors still wanna run a couple of tests.' She said, speaking to Adele. It was kind of nice that she was talking to Adele rather than Sherlock or John, but that fact was completely overshadowed by her almost unbearable optimism.

'If it were up to me, you'd have been discharged already.' She went on. 'But, well. Those docs do like their tests! I'll check in with you all soon, but you better sit tight until then, kay?'

Adele could only nod as Kaylee left, John sending a smile her way as she went.

'It won't last.' Sherlock said plainly, as soon as she shut the door.

John looked at him.

'What?'

'The relationship you're trying to forge with this woman.' He clarified.

John shook his head.

'Shut up.' He said. He sat down near Adele's bed. 'Adele, what happened to-?'

'She's far too cheerful for you.' Sherlock interrupted.

'Sherlock, this really isn't the time to be-'

'Don't you agree, Adele?'

Adele gave John her most evil grin. 'Oh yes, Sherlock. Far too cheerful.'

'Adele!'

'Besides, thinking of relationships at a time like this?' Sherlock continued.

'Selfish, John!' Adele finished.

'Frankly, I'm disappointed in you.'

'I hate you. Both of you.' John huffed, standing up and leaving the room.

'Following her? Really, John, she'll only think you're clingy.' Adele quipped.

Both of them laughed a little as he shut the door hard.

There was a pause, and then Sherlock spoke.

'What did happen?' He asked.

Adele clamped shut like an oyster.

'Fell over. Hit my head.' She said.

'Adele.'

Adele glared at him. 'So you don't believe me?'

'I don't think you're being completely truthful. Because no one pulls stiches from hitting their head. And actually, there's not much bruising on your head compared with your arms.' Sherlock had lowered his voice considerably now.

She could fool him. Adele had fooled Sherlock plenty of times. 'I fell.'

'Worst excuse you've used in years.'

'It's not an excuse.'

'It is. I'll find out.'

'You do that.'

Adele and Sherlock glared at each other, daring the other to break the silence. Adele could see the corners of his mouth edging into a grin.

'Besides, I think you should keep an eye on John for the time being.'

'Good point. It won't last.'

'It never does.' He paused for a moment. 'Do I get in the way?'

Adele had to seriously consider her reply. It was incredibly tempting to say yes, but it would probably hurt his feelings. 'I think you're a bit too observant. Or ever present. You sort of drag him away when he's actually got someone.'

'Oh.'

'That's why people think you two are together.'

Sherlock frowned. 'But we're not.'

'No, but you act like it.'

'But we're-'

'Sherlock, people assume things. You and John… Well, there's chemistry.' Sherlock opened his mouth to interrupt. 'Not the science type. You know, the type in those teenage romance novels. And actually, you two work quite well together. Well, you would if John wasn't the straightest of straights the world has ever seen.'

'Oh. Really?'

Adele sighed. 'I thought you noticed everything? Honestly.'

Sherlock didn't answer, instead going off into his thoughts again. Adele was becoming increasingly restless, and was back to twisting her bracelet. How she still had it was a complete mystery. Of course, it was only of sentimental value, which was something Adele usually found stupid, but still. Hammet knew she had it, surely? And if he knew she had it, he would have told them to take it. Send her into a panic. Add to the list of problems she already had.

John had yet to return with the stupid Kaylee woman. Adele normally liked John. But every time he was around a woman, he became incredibly self-conscious and impossible to hold an intelligent conversation with. Adele couldn't decide which she found more annoying; John with a girl, or Sherlock and his stupid mind palace. John with a girl was actually probably less annnoying, because you could drag him away quite quickly. With Sherlock, you couldn't get his attention once he was oblivious.

After what seemed like hours of complaining of extreme boredom, Adele was finally allowed to go. Sherlock was still quizzing her about what had happened, but Adele wouldn't tell him anything. No need to get stopped from leaving the flat on her own. John was waiting at the flat when they got back, apparently having gotten over the teasing. As soon as Adele got in, he took something from his pocket.

'I think this is yours.' John handed it over. Adele noted that no one had yet tried to guess the password. To her, the password to her phone was probably one of the most obvious words in the world. She had a suspicion that Sherlock had tried to guess it several times, but he hadn't managed. The gloating would be endless. There were also several texts registered. This was a new occurrence. There was normally a week long gap between any texts Adele received, and now she had five. Then again, the lack of texts might have been due to the fact that Adele either didn't reply, or texted back something sarcastic.

'Thanks.' Adele frowned at him. Why was everyone giving her weird looks? Trying to find out the real reason for her disappearance? Probably. Back to the texts though. One would probably be Eliza, another two might be Sherlock or John, there was a possibility of another from Lestrade, and the last one… Hammet.

_More of those tricks tomorrow._

And ignoring him wouldn't work. Adele wanted to know where he'd got those two kids from, and how he'd persuaded them.

_Hansel and Gretl._

It was fairly late, so Adele decided it was best to go to bed rather than sit around and talk to John and Sherlock. Or more like only talk to John, seeing as it would probably be impossible to communicate with Sherlock for the next couple of hours.

Going to bed however didn't look to be easy. As soon as Adele went into her room and tried to switch on the light, she was met with only the clicking noise of the switch being hit with her hand. Dammit.

'John?'

'What?'

'Light's broken.'

Adele could probably fix the light herself. The only thing stopping her was the fact that the room was incredibly dark. The dark was awful. Adele could happily survive in a room full of angry scorpions or black widow spiders, but no way could she stay in the dark. Never going to happen.

'Where does he keep spare light bulbs?'

Adele decided that it would probably be a good idea to go and help him. John was still looking in the kitchen, but Adele had a better idea. Sherlock likely kept anything he deemed not useful, such as light bulbs, in his room. Which John wouldn't go anywhere near.

'He'll-'

'He won't mind, he can't even hear us. It's a light bulb, I'm hardly blowing up his cigarettes.' True, Sherlock hadn't even looked up. John opened his mouth to protest, but Adele had already found one.

'If he's doing an experiment or in his mind palace, you can do whatever you want. That includes go into his room.' Adele handed him the light bulb. 'Tell me when you've fixed it.'

As John left, Sherlock looked up, grinning. 'If you ever blow up my cigarettes, I'll cut off the flat's electricity supply.'

'Mrs Hudson would go mental.'

'Then don't blow up the cigarettes. It's a perfectly good compromise.'

John eventually fixed the light. Aside from now having light in her room, it was a lot brighter. Much better. Adele should have noticed the light flickering in the past few days, but so much had happened that it had been pushed to the back of her mind.

Adele decided that independence wasn't worth being constantly tired. Sleeping tablets actually worked, apparently, so why not use them?

When Adele got up that morning, Sherlock was already setting up an experiment in the kitchen. John had gone to the newspaper, so the flat was quiet. Adele sighed. Might as well get these texts looked at. True, one was from Eliza;

_Next time I see you, I want a real answer._

Great. Another lie to spin. Two were, of course, Sherlock;

_Where are you?_

_SH_

And

_If you're not back at the flat within the next ten minutes I'm calling Lestrade. _

_SH_

Of course. And there _was_ one from Lestrade. Sherlock had actually carried out the threat.

_Where are you? He keeps calling and asking me to have a look. How can I remind him that I don't own the bloody police force? Seriously, answer your phone. _

Like Sherlock would ever listen. Whether Lestrade had actually done as Sherlock had asked, or more like _demanded,_ was another question. And that just left the last message;

_I was wrong, you really are easy to hurt. This should be much more fun._

Hammet. Just as Adele was about to lock the phone, another message came through;

_And I'm back! Your friend Molly? She's much quieter, much more fun. Terrified! Now, riddle me this:_

_Four men were in a boat on the lake. The boat turns over, and all four men sink to the bottom of the lake, yet not a single man got wet! Why?_

_You have until midnight tonight. _

'Sherlock?'

Sherlock glanced up, frowning. 'Yes?'

'You won't like this.'

Now he looked worried. 'Why?'

Adele showed him the text, while trying to work her way through the cluttered kitchen. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. John had now gotten up, and was looking over Adele's shoulder.

'Right. Scotland Yard. Now.'

Adele and John looked at each other as Sherlock grabbed his coat and ran down the stairs. John shrugged as he and Adele followed. Why would he go for Molly, of all people? It was Molly. She wasn't exactly much use to anyone, in the nicest possible way. Sherlock was standing outside, running his hands through his hair.

'Scotland Yard can't help.' For once, Adele was having to be the voice of reason. A while since that had ever happened.

'You would rather sit in Barts when she's not there?'

Adele had never thought of that. 'Good point.'


	17. Chapter 17

'…For the thousandth time, there's _nothing_ I can do about it!'

'Try then!'

'There's not exactly much to work with!'

'You're the police!'

'No, I'm a detective inspector! I can't just _find_ people! You've already shown that you can do that on your own!'

'The law isn't exactly on my side!'

Adele had almost had it. Sherlock and Lestrade had spent the best part of the last hour yelling at each other, much to the annoyance of pretty much all of Scotland Yard. John had long since gone to looking at the news on his phone, occasionally pointing out an interesting article to Adele, who had at first found a nice corner of Lestrade's office, but she could still hear all the shouting from there. Now she was sitting under the table, hands over her ears. It wasn't helping. The yelling was only muted.

'…if he's given her until midnight, why are you hanging around here instead of solving it?'

'Because you _could_ be helping!'

'I've already told you that I can't!' Lestrade paused. 'Where is she?'

Adele drew her knees up to her chest. So this didn't exactly help keep her hidden, but still. It made her feel a lot safer from the impending threat of Hammet and scary blonde kids. Sherlock's face appeared under the table, grinning. Adele scowled at him.

'Found her. Although I don't think she wants to talk to any of us.'

Adele shook her head. Although, knowing Sherlock, he would have some sort of trick to get her talking. Sure enough, on the floor a few feet away was a packet of cola bottles. Unfortunately, they weren't on the bit of the floor that was under the table.

'Want them?'

Adele nodded. Considering that she hadn't eaten this morning, cola bottles would be two birds with one stone. Nice food, and not hungry anymore. Perfect.

'Come and get them.'

Except for that. She would have to deal with all the yelling if she got them.

'Don't mess around, Adele. It's a good offer.'

Adele gave Sherlock a look of complete hatred. 'Stop shouting.' She muttered.

'Deal.'

Adele crawled out from under the desk, grabbing the sweets from the floor. Lestrade smirking, but immediately stopped after Adele threw him an evil glare. Out of the corner of her eye, Adele say Donovan walk past the office, look in and shake her head.

'Adele, I hate to tell you, but you need to solve this one quickly.'

John, the voice of reason. Sherlock looked ready to protest. So, he was finally beginning to realise that Molly was important. Okay, so the fact that she _probably_ fancied him was bound to annoy him. Hell, it annoyed Adele. And Molly's over cheerful approach to everything wasn't exactly entertaining. And she was a bit eager to help. But it _was _Molly. She wasn't that bad. Just a bit strange.

'Sherlock wants to go and find her.' Sherlock nodded in agreement. 'But we don't know where she is. If I solve it, he'll tell us.'

Sherlock looked annoyed again, but Adele continued anyway. 'I'll just solve it quickly. Anyway, how is she different to Donovan?'

He had no answer to this. Adele actually would much rather have Molly around than Donovan, but she couldn't exactly say that in front of Lestrade, who looked pleased now.

'Fine. But we're not staying here.'

Adele rolled her eyes. Why did he have to be stubborn? Admittedly, Scotland Yard was boring, and the flat was much easier to work in, but knowing Sherlock the entire day, aside from solving the stupid riddle, would involve going back and forth between venues, yelling, and Lestrade being unintelligent. What a great day. Then of course, they would have to go and get Molly, who would be timid and scared. Adele would have to excuse herself from that.

Sherlock led the way back outside, ignoring Lestrade's protests. John was trying to talk to Sherlock, although he was hardly paying attention, instead texting furiously.

'He'll listen to you.'

Adele jumped as John fell into step with her. 'What?'

'Tell him I'm going out. Please?'

'Why can't you do it?'

'He won't listen!'

'He won't listen to anyone at the moment. Where are you going?'

John looked embarrassed. A girl? Likely. That meant…

'Kaylee?'

He nodded. 'Yes.' John had now lowered his tone.

'I think she's weird, but fine. I'll tell him later.' John clapped Adele on the shoulder. Ow. The stupid blonde kid had apparently managed to bruise that as well. She watched as he jogged off in the other direction, checking his watch. Sherlock was still texting as Adele caught up with him at the kerb. He was too tall for her to see what he was typing, although it was worth a try. Adele craned her neck and stood on tiptoe, but Sherlock caught on fairly quickly. He raised the phone slightly until it was impossible to see. What was so secretive anyway?

'Are you going to get a cab or what?' It was getting slightly annoying, standing at the edge of the pavement like this.

'I'm texting.' Adele sighed. Chances were that he was trying to text Molly. Didn't he realise that in a situation like this, even Hammet, who was a complete idiot, would have made sure she didn't have her phone? 'Where's John?'

'You've noticed? A girl.'

'Oh.' Adele could tell exactly what was going through his head. It was exactly the same as hers.

'It won't last.' They said in unison. Adele could see the smallest of smiles edging its way across his face. 'That only works if John is here.' Sherlock looked slightly disappointed.

'Cab.' She reminded him. Just as she said it, one drew up in front of them. Adele was surprised that she wasn't sick of the things now. The amount of times she'd used them was incredibly high. Still, it didn't look as though that was going to cease anytime soon.

One good thing about John not being at the flat was that it was much quieter. Every time John did something, Adele's ears would pick it up, making it near impossible to concentrate. Sherlock was perfectly happy to get on with his experiment. Adele had put the television on at a very low volume, just to check for anything suspicious. The problem with doing this was that every so often, Sherlock would glance up and make a face which clearly said _I disagree with this and want to argue._ But he wasn't saying anything at the moment, which was good. How long that would last, Adele couldn't tell. But chances were that it wouldn't be for long.

_Four men were in a boat on the lake. The boat turns over, and all four men sink to the bottom of the lake, yet not a single man got wet! Why?_

Adele sat staring at the text. She resolved to write it out in her own handwriting, which didn't help. Adele's own handwriting was shaky and pretty much unreadable. She managed to steady her hand long enough to write it out it block capitals, but the patronising tone of the message was still there. Did he really have to put an exclamation mark there? Really? Adele glanced out of the window. She almost jumped when she thought she saw the blonde boy hanging around on the corner, only to look closer and realise that it was someone else. Hammet had gotten what he wanted. Now she was seeing things. Great.

_Four men._

Well that bit was easy enough to understand. There were four men in a boat. No intelligence required to understand that. Depending on the type of boat that they were in, it was most likely that they were too heavy. Or had been being idiots. Either way, it was highly probable that the number of people in the boat wasn't really relevant.

_The boat turns over._

The boat. Chances were that these four men were fishing. Adele could imagine John fishing. It seemed like the type of thing he might do. Fish. Then again, Adele had been seriously wrong in her deductions when she had first met John.

'_Adele, this is Dr Watson.' Sherlock gestured to the man standing behind him. He looked confused, to say the least. But more to the point, why _was_ the man standing behind him? Unless-_

'_You have a boyfriend and you didn't tell me?' So Sherlock had broken the rule. How many times had he conveniently forgotten to mention something significant to her? This would have to be noted down. _

'_No. He's moving in with us.' _

'_We're moving?'_

'_That's the general idea, yes.' _

'_Aren't you going to tell me how long this has been going on?' Adele squinted against the sun. _

'_Met him yesterday.' So far, this _Doctor_ hadn't said anything. So neither of them was openly denying it. Interesting. _

'_And you're _sleeping_ with him?' Adele raised her voice a bit. _

'_Could I just-?' So now he was getting involved. _

'_No.' Adele turned back to Sherlock, trying to put on a furious face. 'When are we leaving?'_

'_Ten minutes.' He grinned. _

_Adele frowned at Dr Watson. ''Kay. I'll get my shoe box.' She began to jump up the stairs. 'You could do so much better, mother.' This time, it was her turn to grin as an amused expression crossed Sherlock's face, and a confused one crossed Dr Watson's. _

Adele almost smiled at the memory. In her own defence, they were quite easily seen as a couple. Almost everyone they met asked about it.

'_What's she-?'_

'_The shoe box? That's all her stuff. And then some books, but I think I've already got those.'_

'_Oh. But-'_

'_Mother? People keep asking whether we're related, I don't know why.'_

'_What about her-'_

'_Real mother? Wouldn't ask that, no one except the two of us knows.'_

'_If you tell him I'll find something you love and drown it in sulphuric acid!' Adele yelled down the stairs. 'Doctor Watson might not look so pretty!'_

But then she'd told John herself. Was that her biggest secret? Adele wasn't even sure. But there were lots of things that she didn't tell anyone. Like that she was scared in case she got this riddle wrong and Molly got hurt. And that she was scared that Hammet would send those two kids out to hurt her again. Or that Sherlock would one day just disappear, leaving her alone. So many things she was still scared of, all of which would probably never leave her head.

'Concentrate.'

Adele jumped. Sherlock was standing in front of her, looking at the blank sheet of paper.

'Sorry.' Sherlock smiled at her.

'Not your fault. It looks difficult.'

This surprised Adele. 'You haven't seen it?'

'Nope.'

She frowned. What? Why not? Sherlock seemed to sense the question before she had a chance to say it. 'If I work it out, it's not fair that you still have to sit here and solve it.'

'When did he say that I have to work it out myself?' It was true. Adele seriously had no recollection of this.

'Somehow got my number. I've had a few lovely texts this morning.'

'Oh. How?'

'Wouldn't say. Anyway, concentrate.'

Adele threw a pencil at him as he walked away. Sherlock, being the complete pain that he was, caught it without even looking. 'Play nicely.' He said. Patronising git.

The front door opening sounded through the house, and neither party looked up. Adele's eyes were fully intent on the task Hammet had set her, and Sherlock staring straight ahead, evidently puzzling out where Molly's location might be.

Adele looked up sharply as an altogether far too cheerful voice floated up the stairs, accompanying the sound of four footsteps rather than John's two.

'So, how old is Adele?' The voice asked.

'What's he brought her back for?' Adele hissed to Sherlock vehemently. Her carer made no move. It wasn't long, however, before Adele got her answer.

'Hey everyone!' Kaylee appeared in the doorway, sunny as usual. 'John was just talking about some… riddle, you guys were facin'?'

Adele hid her snigger at the way Kaylee pronounced John's name. It really was an odd way of speaking.

'So, what is it then?' Kaylee asked, falling onto the sofa next to Sherlock. Adele looked up, blinking in alarm. Kaylee tilted her head a little and sent John a grin. Adele rolled her eyes while she wasn't looking. It was inhuman for someone to be that sickly sweet. With a sigh, Adele looked toward her guardian, who was still staring straight ahead.

'Lock, you're dead to the world, right?' She asked. Really, the fact that he hadn't reacted when Kaylee sat next to him should have been proof enough, but she liked to be sure.

When no reply was given, she read the riddle aloud.

'Four men were in a boat on the lake.' She read laboriously. 'The boat turns over, and all four men sink to the bottom of the lake, yet not a single man got wet. Why?'

'What?' Adele was surprised to see that the two voices were that of the two men. Kaylee was squinting into the distance, and Adele had to wonder if she was all there.

'But that… it doesn't make sense does it?' John frowned.

'It's a riddle.' Adele deadpanned. 'But I see what you mean.'

'Shut up, shut up, I can get this!' Sherlock was shouting, his head in his hands.

'Oh, what was that?' Adele said snidely. 'But if I work it out, Adele, it won't be fair on you!'

'Shhh!' Sherlock hissed erratically.

'None of 'em are married!' Kaylee exclaimed abruptly, standing up.

Adele stared at her. Sherlock turned his head slowly.

'Say that again.' He instructed.

Kaylee suddenly looked nervous, the scarily excited look in Sherlock's eyes probably doing nothing to counter that.

'None of 'em are… married?' She repeated, a little shakily.

Sherlock jumped up from the sofa, his face alight. It dropped for a moment when he said:

'Why didn't I think of that?'

Adele huffed and rolled her eyes.

'I- I got it right?' Kaylee asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and achievement.

Adele got up from her chair.

'Yes, yes, but come on. Now we must save Molly Hooper for the second time in our lives.' She said.

'When was the first?' John asked.

'Tell you later. Now come on.'

_Just in time! I'm off to Vancouver tomorrow morning, so I miss a whole day of writing But I'll write extra fast to make up for it!_

_My friend, IngridNixie is writing a companion to this trilogy, Go and check it out! It's awesome! s/8375669/1/Elided_Mirths_

_So review if you like, review if whatever, and review if you want Molly to be saved sometimes within the next week!_

_[Even though I'll still continue no matter what]._

_Love you guys! :D_


	18. Chapter 18

'The second time… _Second_?'

Adele was getting pretty sick of John now. Although had he not bought Kaylee back, Adele wouldn't have gotten the answer to the riddle. But even now, would Hammet know that it wasn't her that actually solved it? Hopefully not. But he'd warned Sherlock before. Then again, Kaylee was fairly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Another person Adele would inadvertently get almost killed. God.

Adele finally managed to finish the text, hands shaking. Now to wait until he told them where Molly was. It wasn't long, however, before Hammet texted back;

_Well done. Your friend is in that lab at St Bart's. Go and get her. _

As soon as Adele showed Sherlock the text, he jumped up. 'You,' he said, pointing at John and Kaylee. 'Stay here. Adele come on.'

'Why are they-?'

'I'll explain later. Kaylee, you've been fantastic. Thank you.' Adele exchanged a shocked glance with John. Sherlock had _thanked_ someone? And more importantly, Kaylee, of all people? Kaylee looked downright confused, so Adele resolved to leave John to explain. She followed Sherlock down the stairs, jumping the last three. By the time she was outside, he had a cab ready and waiting.

Bart's was empty. Was it really that late? True, the sky had darkened considerably, and most commuters were off the streets, but still. Empty. Not normal. Adele didn't like it. Bart's was Bart's. There were people, and Sherlock was usually a bit more cheerful when he was there. As was Adele. Now she, and even though he was trying to hide it, Sherlock were looking at the place with less than pleased expressions.

'Lab. Is he serious?'

'Apparently so.' Sherlock nodded at her. Oh, so he wanted Adele to lead the way? Great. Really great. Through the maze of corridors they walked, trying and probably failing, to look completely normal. This was why they should keep John with them. At least slightly normal.

As soon as Adele arrived at the door of the lab, she froze. It was… dark.

'Sherlock?'

'Yes?'

Adele nodded towards the door. 'Dark.'

Even to Adele, this was ridiculous. Why was she even scared of it? The dark was probably the most irrational fear she could possibly have, and yet it still terrified her so much that she would only sleep with the light on, and put on her best behaviour when Sherlock threatened to cut off the flat's electricity. _Why_? But there was no time to think about it now, because Sherlock, being Sherlock, had already pushed open the door.

'Go on.'

He hadn't locked it? 'He left it open.'

'He said we could get her. Adele, the only person in there is Molly.'

'You go first, then.' Sherlock sighed and walked in, as if he owned the place. How was he so sure that is _wasn't _a trap? Not even an idiot like Hammet left the door unlocked so that she could waltz in and save Molly. But if he _had_ left it open, Adele's instinct was to take full advantage. She followed Sherlock in, but silently cursing herself. _Why_ hadn't she memorised where the light switch was in here? How stupid was she? True, there had never really been much need for it, but still. Adele could hear Sherlock talking to Molly, and she could hear her name cropping up rather frequently.

'Talk about me as though I'm here, why don't you?' She hissed. Not being able to see wasn't helping anything.

'You can shut the door, Adele.' Sherlock sounded much happier than he had in the past few hours. There was, of course, a downside to this. Happy Sherlock also sometimes became forgetful Sherlock. And forgetful Sherlock made quite stupid decisions. In this case, of course, it was telling her to shut the door, because only five seconds later, Adele heard the unmistakeable sound of a lock clicking. It would have been an understatement to say that Sherlock exploded.

'THAT'S NOT FAIR PLAY!' Adele could see the faint outline of Molly flinching. Even though Molly probably couldn't see, Adele shrugged in her general direction. Fair play was the last thing on her mind right now.

'He's not going to play fair, idiot.' This was true. Hammet had already demonstrated this by having that stupid blonde kid, whose name Adele still didn't know, basically attack her with no prior warning. Really, locking them in a dark room was basic compared to that. Actually, a bit more scary, to Adele at least, but basic in a sense. Just as Adele was about to begin thinking about exactly how they were going to get out of this, the alert light on her phone began to flash. Adele only noticed this because one, in the dark, it lit up the entire room. Two, Adele had been keeping an eye on it because her phone was the only thing which now produced, once again, a light source. She saw Sherlock turn towards her, although he made no comment on whether she should answer or not. It looked as though she had to, however, because the number appeared to be Hammet's. Maybe they'd be receiving an explanation. Adele hesitantly pressed the answer button;

'Yes?'

'Got you! And Sherly too, this is great! I didn't think you would solve that one, and I was right, wasn't I? Watson's friend got it! So, you can have your friend, on condition. Because I made it clear, Adele, it can only be you. Only you.' His voice darkened. 'I'm not stupid, you know. But I _am_ fair, whatever you might think. Stay here a couple of hours, and you can all go!'

'I…' Adele was stuttering now. Great. Sherlock appeared to have picked up on this, because he was now standing in front of Adele, hand held out for the phone. Adele gave it to him, apprehensive. More yelling. It probably wouldn't make it any quieter, but Adele went to sit with Molly anyway. One good thing about Molly was that at least her annoying-ness was consistent. Sherlock varied. Although at the moment, Molly was just smiling in that way that Adele couldn't help but see as friendly. But friendliness on Molly's part wouldn't exactly make Sherlock shut up.

'…HOW IS THAT FAIR PLAY?' Adele knew full well that Hammet wouldn't give Sherlock an answer that he would actually accept. Although a more important question was _how he knew_. How could he possibly have known that Kaylee had solved it? Was Kaylee another one of his accomplices? It was just as likely as it was unlikely. But Kaylee didn't seem to be the type of person to work with Hammet, of all people. And Sherlock hadn't thought about it, so it was fairly certain that Kaylee was just another person to think about. Great. Sherlock was still having a go at Hammet, although Adele could see his patience wearing thin. As suspected, he cut Hammet off and almost slammed the phone down onto a table, before realising that it was Adele's, and that he would have to buy her a new one if it broke.

'Fine.' He sounded incredibly bitter. Molly, for some reason, hadn't questioned him. Why?

'What did he say?'

'Sit here and wait.' Adele decided not to question that. What had she done last time? Pen knife. That would probably annoy Sherlock a lot more, but the blade would reflect some sort of light. She took the knife from her pocket, flicking it in and out with a small _swish_ noise. Sherlock didn't flinch until about five minutes later. 'Put the knife away.'

'Why?'

'It's sharp. I know what you're like in the dark. No risk taking.'

'Says you.'

'Away.' When Adele didn't respond, he changed his tone to a sterner one. 'I mean it. Or I'll take it off you.' Adele put the knife away, but grudgingly. She was tired. Whatever the time was now, it was late. How long did he want them to stay there? Sherlock and Molly were talking quietly about something or other, but Adele could hardly be bothered to keep track of the conversation. The dark was messing with her eyes now, because she was pretty sure that the vague shapes she was seeing weren't actually there. Sherlock would have realised by now. Or even Molly. Adele was conscious of the fact that she had been awake for a lot longer than was a good idea. She would like to sleep, of course, but she knew it would be a stupid idea. But it would be nice to sleep. Just as Adele felt her eyes drift closed, the relative silence was punctured by-

A scream.

Adele's head snapped up. Molly glanced around, although she didn't look as scared as Adele thought she might. Sherlock had already jumped up, apparently looking for the source of the noise. But they weren't in the room. Adele could tell that much. It was coming from somewhere else, but she didn't know where. All she knew was that it wouldn't stop, and that Sherlock wouldn't be able to help this time around.

It must have carried on for ages. The screams sounded so familiar, yet Adele couldn't work out who it was. A girl, definitely. She knew them, she had too. Not Molly, Molly was right there next to her. Kaylee? No, he wouldn't have had time. And she didn't know Kaylee properly. Not Donovan, they didn't exactly get along. And this was a young person, which ruled out Mrs Hudson. So-

Eliza.

By this time, Adele had out her hands over her ears. Not that it was particularly helping. Sherlock appeared to have given up on looking, so he had sat back down in the corner, Adele was aware that she was shaking, whether with fear or rage however, she was unsure. Closing her eyes didn't exactly help.

Was it bad that she didn't want to help them?

Was it bad that all she wanted was for it to stop?

'Adele?' Sherlock's voice was slightly muffled due to Adele's hands being over her ears. She didn't even look up, instead nodding slightly. 'It's not really them, it's just-'

'It's Eliza.' Adele cut him off. Sherlock, for a second, appeared to lose the ability to speak.

'No. It's not. Block it out. He's just trying to scare you.'

'It's Eliza.'

'Ignore it.'

'It's Eliza.'

Why was she repeating it? Because there was nothing else she could say? Admitting she was scared might be a good idea, but Sherlock could probably already tell. Where was Molly? Adele didn't dare to look up. She registered Sherlock's coat now around her shoulders, wondering why and when he'd given it to her. It was sort of comforting, but only just. Nothing was really moving in real time anymore, Adele's brain was only noticing things a few seconds after they actually happened. She felt dizzy, and the screaming hadn't changed in volume. Why wouldn't it stop? Adele was still tired, but she couldn't sleep now. She rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder, now close to tears. She couldn't help Eliza. She couldn't. Not even because she was stuck here. Because she wasn't brave. She was only clever. And that was no help here. She could only sit and wait for it to stop. And when it did? She would go back to the flat. Because it would have stopped.

She was actually crying now. Adele was aware of Sherlock's arm around her shoulders, but it wasn't relevant. Why wasn't Molly panicking? Where was she? Adele chanced a glance upwards, and saw Molly sitting to her right. Moly was fine. Sherlock was fine. Adele was fine. Eliza wasn't fine.

'It's Eliza.' She whispered. There wasn't much else to say. Anything that distracted her from the screaming was good enough. Even if it only convinced her of the fact that her friend was hurt.

'It's not.'

'It's Eliza.' There were now tears streaming down Adele's face. She needed to get a grip. Adele could feel her eyes drifting slowly closed, allowing her to finally sleep. It would stop when she woke up. It would stop.

'S'Eliza' she muttered.

'No. It's no one. He's just trying to scare you.' Adele only just heard the last two words before she drifted off.

_That was fun, wasn't it? So, pleased! If you liked, review? If you like hedgehogs, review? If you like otters, review? I you like… stuff, review?_

_I'm desperate *facepalm*_

_Next one on its way! Enjoy!_


	19. Chapter 19

Adele was woken by the sunlight streaming through the window. Light! She blinked several times, allowing her eyes to adjust. The screaming was still ringing in her ears, but it was less real now. Had it all been fake? Or had he really hurt them? Adele didn't even want to know at this point. Were they allowed to go?

Adele glanced up at Sherlock who grinned at her. She frowned. Why was he grinning? Because it had stopped? Probably.

'Do I get my coat back?' Adele shook her head. She liked the coat; it made her feel much safer, even though all the screaming had stopped.

'Are you not going to talk to me?' Once again, Adele shook her head. It would feel weird to break the relative silence and calm by speaking. Whispering, yes, but not talking. Where was Molly? Just as she was about to ask Sherlock that very question, Molly walked in with what smelled suspiciously like coffee. Adele ignored her smile. So they were allowed to go, were they? Since when? Sherlock must have sensed the question, because he answered it within five seconds of Adele mentally asking;

'Only ten minutes ago. I would have woken you up otherwise.'

Why was Adele seriously tempted to kick him? She didn't want to move just yet though- Part of her dreaded going back to the flat and talking to John. Which begged another question: What was John doing? He might have called Lestrade, but it was John. Quite likely he just thought Sherlock had gone off chasing people around London. Adele would have. Why hadn't Molly or Sherlock been freaked out by the screaming? Sherlock obviously didn't want to bring it up, so for now Adele was confined to her thoughts. Molly, of all people. And where had he got those screams if it wasn't really Eliza? He couldn't have. You couldn't fake that kind of thing. Adele couldn't think straight at the moment. She might have slept, but she was still tired.

Adele didn't really register much of the journey back to the flat. She tried to kick Sherlock after he took his coat back, but he didn't yell, instead telling her quietly to behave in case Kaylee was still at the flat. Adele had only scowled at him.

'Are you not talking to me?'

Adele didn't know. She probably was, but couldn't be bothered. 'I am.' Why was she whispering? Add that to the list of questions. She was silent for the rest of the taxi ride to the flat, letting Sherlock talk to himself. She would probably have to talk to John when they got back, but for now she was quite happy to curl up and lean against Sherlock's arm. Even if it was only temporary. Sherlock didn't appear to mind, until the cab drew up outside the flat. It was then that he exercised the parental control he had but had never used.

'Let John ask questions. I'll answer them.'

'I always let him ask questions, however unintelligent. It's you that stops him.' Sherlock didn't appear to have any answer to that. Ha. Although in this case, the victory was pretty short lived. Maybe because Adele wanted to know about the screaming. Sherlock didn't know how he got it if it wasn't really Eliza. So surely that was proof that Adele was right. Then why was she ignoring it? What happened to Eliza being her friend? Weren't friends supposed to help each other? That's what they did in books. But books weren't real. Books were just another world to hang around in when the present one got boring. Really, they were massive lies. Stupid stories. Nothing in them was real. But stuff like this happened in stories, and the usual protocol was for the hero to go after their friends.

But was Adele the hero?

Probably not. Her thoughts carried her all the way up the stairs of the flat, where she was greeted by John and the paper. Oh joy.

'…Lestrade's gone looking for you two, I called him yesterday. Where were you?' John looked crossed between pissed off and worried. Adele glanced up at Sherlock. Chances were that he could explain a lot better than her. But instead Sherlock shook his head at John, who frowned. Why wasn't he telling him? More questions. Adele sat down on the sofa, and took her phone from her pocket. Or she would have, had her phone actually been in her pocket. Adele looked up, intending to ask Sherlock where it was, to find him standing next to the sofa, holding it out. Adele snatched it back, and looked through the recent calls. As suspected, Hammet's number was there, amongst the many missed calls from John. There were a few from Lestrade, of course. Adele considered texting Eliza, but there wasn't much point. Actually, if she had been in trouble, she might have texted Adele first. The evidence for Eliza being fine was fairly large, but there was still the simple fact that you couldn't get those screams from anyone else. Surely that was a unique thing? Adele glanced out of the window. She _could_ go to Hammersmith and just find Eliza. If she was there, fine. If she wasn't, then there were problems. Sherlock, however, appeared to think otherwise.

'No.'

'What?'

'You are not going to look for anyone.'

'Why?'

'Because I said so.'

Adele scowled at him. So it was fine to run around London looking for a murderers and God knows what else, but apparently checking someone's safety wasn't on the agenda. Fine. She'd have to sneak out at some point.

John went back to the paper after about five minutes, while Sherlock decided that the violin was a sensible idea. Great. Add to the amount of annoying noises going through Adele's head. But Adele didn't have the energy to tell him to stop, so she took one of the books she had been reading before from the floor. Chances were that it was already finished, but if she so much as went into the kitchen Sherlock would panic. And it was too much effort to go to her room.

An hour later, and Sherlock was still playing. Adele was tempted to throw something at him, but she would really be in trouble if the violin got broken. He did, however stop playing suddenly when the doorbell went. That was weird. Normally he kept playing and it fell to either Adele, or more likely John, to answer it. Adele was about to ask, but he help up the bow as though it had the power to silence everyone. It didn't work, because John got up and looked out of the window.

'It's Lestrade.'

'Oh. Dull.'

John raised his eyebrows at Adele, who simply shrugged in return. John knew Adele wouldn't answer the door. One, she was lazy, and two, she had already outlined several times that it wasn't her job. It probably wasn't John's either, but still. He ran down the stairs, muttering about how he always had to do it and who knew what else. Adele decided that it was pointless. Her book was far more interesting. But she wouldn't be able to concentrate, of course, because Lestrade had just followed John up the stairs, Donovan in tow. Joy.

'Found them, did you? Who'd she try to kill this time?'

'Shut up, Donovan.' Of course, Donovan wouldn't pay any attention, but it was worth a try. Lestrade looked ever so slightly apologetic, but he wouldn't do anything to stop her. He never did.

'So where were you? Because I've been running around trying to look for-'

'Lestrade, if you were looking properly, you would have gone to the most obvious location. Last night, Adele and I-'

'SHUT UP!'

Adele put her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear anymore, or relieve last night's events. She didn't want to remember any of it, not Bart's, not the riddle, not the dark. Nothing. She wanted to pretend sit had never happened, finish solving the riddles and have everything back to normal. She didn't want to remember Eliza screaming-

No.

Before she even knew what was going on, Adele was screaming herself. Why? To block out Donovan, to stop Eliza, to tell Hammet that he had won, and that she quit. As everything from the night before flooded back, the deafening noise, all of it. She could hear Sherlock yelling at Donovan, but everything was muffled, not registering in her brain. A door slamming, muttering. But still she kept screaming. Anything, just to make it stop.

'Adele?'

'Shut up, shut up, shut up.'

'Adele, listen to me.'

'Shut up.'

'Adele, look at me.'

Adele raised her head, taking her hands from her ears. He would just say it wasn't real. But it was. You couldn't fake that.

'Adele, you know what I'm going to say.'

'But it was-'

'No. It can't have been.'

'You don't know that.'

'I do.'

'Have you got any proof?'

'I-' Okay, so she had no proof. But nor did he.

'Exactly. Why don't you read a book or something, and I'll try to find out what it really was? Okay?'

Adele just nodded. He wouldn't be able to find out, because it wasn't anything else. It was Eliza, and Sherlock couldn't face the fact that it was unexplainable. Still, Adele picked the book back up. Why was she still tired if she'd slept last night? Sherlock was scribbling on a piece of paper, whereas was still reading the paper. How long could people do that for? The paper was hardly interesting. Adele flicked through the pages of the book listlessly. She neither knew nor cared about this particular book, until a scrap of card fell out from the back.

_Enjoy that?_

_To be honest, this is much better than anything mummy ever did. You might disagree, of course, but I'm rather pleased. I might do that again, actually! Really, this is just relieving your twisted childhood. It's great! _

Who? No, not who. She knew who. Hammet or one of those kids. How? Yes, how? John had been in the entire night, hadn't he? Unless-

He'd called Lestrade. But what if by called, he meant he had actually gone to Scotland Yard? Then there would be no one in the flat.

Adele couldn't tell Sherlock. No. There was no point. This wasn't a threat, it was just teasing. Unimportant. But was the flat safe anymore? They would have picked the lock, which could be done again. But if they _did_…

They wouldn't. Adele looked nervously out of the window. The blonde kid hanging around outside most certainly couldn't be one of Hammet's.


	20. Chapter 20

Adele didn't do much for the rest of the day. The note in the book was still on her mind, but it was pushed to the back rather than anywhere near the front. The book the note had fallen out of was now sitting under Adele's bed, as though it were cursed. She had picked a new book, determined on taking last night's events off her mind. It sort of worked. The new book certainly required more brainwork, as it was focused on the one subject that Adele was fairly sure she had more knowledge in than Sherlock. The Solar System. It was surprisingly satisfying to have, even if it was just one area of knowledge in which Adele's intelligence passed his. Something to brag about, really. There wasn't much else; he could even pick better sidekicks than her. No, she couldn't think about that. No more yelling.

No one spoke much. Sherlock continued to write, John read various papers with varying degrees of interest and Adele gave up on the book. Instead she watched both Sherlock and John, who appeared to have forgotten even each other's existence. If she got up and left, Adele knew that she would hardly be noticed. Both were absorbed in their own little worlds, oblivious to anyone else. But John would get bored soon enough. There weren't that many newspapers left on the coffee table. So if Adele wanted to get away with something, it was best to do it now. Although there wasn't really much Adele wanted to do. Besides tell Sherlock he was wrong. Which she couldn't, because getting into an argument about something you didn't even want to think about in the first place was a really stupid idea.

No one had noticed the rain. It was August. How could it rain, even in Britain? Another thing to add to the list of stupid things about life. Which, whilst still being a mental list somewhere in Adele's head, was rather long. It included, in no particular order;

Stupid weather,

Stupid people,

Questions with no answers,

Proverbs,

Idioms,

Lists.

Of course, none of these things could be changed or made any less stupid, but it was good to keep a list. Then you could add and take away from it as time went on. Good way of keeping track, if anything. But it was all irrelevant. Adele was irrelevant. In the grand scheme of things, the bigger picture, everyone she knew was irrelevant, Sherlock included. Yes, even Adele would admit he was a genius, but an irrelevant one. Geniuses were everywhere. Some, like Sherlock were aware of it, and quite eager to show off, others oblivious that their methods of thinking could change the world. John, he was irrelevant. A solider, yes. Protecting his country, yes. But one of many. Thousands had been and still were out there, on the front line. John, however lovely, brave and good at his job he may have been, was only one of them. Lestrade, irrelevant. All Lestrade was was another Detective Inspector, another of many. There were loads of people doing the same job as him, some better at it, some worse. But he was just one person employed by someone else. Anderson and Donovan, even less relevant. Just idiots running around, getting paid, going home. Not doing anything specific, not doing anything unique. Nothing to change the world. Just helping out when needed, and sitting around when not. Mycroft. Yes, relevant in the sense that he _was_ practically British government, but, as he had said, he wasn't as high up as others. There were people other than him making laws, and doing whatever else Mycroft actually did. Mrs Hudson, she was just a landlady. Nice and always ready to provide food, but less relevant than anyone else.

Everything was bloody irrelevant. Adele was irrelevant. Very irrelevant.

Well, Hammet didn't seem to think so. Why couldn't he go and annoy someone else? God, this was boring. Adele yawned.

_From the ground, she could see two men. One well built, rich, expensive suit. Consulting criminal. A gun, pointed at another. When he appeared to speak, his voice would be soft, but all a show. It could be harsh, but that would be no use now. No. His game was to manipulate. He doesn't need to yell, instead he taunts the other, threatening. _

_The second man was slim and tall. He stood straight, perfectly poised. He wore a long black coat. As the wind blew, his dark curled was forced in all directions. He brushed a stray piece from his eyes. You couldn't see it from where she was, but his skin was pale, but not out of fear. This wasn't someone who was scared easily. After several minutes of what could only be speech, he stumbled, unsure of himself, of what's going on. Something isn't right, and he knows it. He takes out a phone. _

_He jumped, or more dove, flailing as he fell through the air. And then-_

Adele all but jumped. She must have fallen asleep, but she had no recollection. Someone had left on all the lights, so it had to have been a while. A glance at her watch confirmed Adele's thoughts. It was more than late, rather early, the time standing at two in the morning. Adele was still on the sofa, but someone, most probably John, had thrown a duvet over her. And left the light on. John didn't leave lights on. So someone had switched them on. As Adele got up, she saw a piece of paper fall to the floor, the scribbles on it suspiciously similar to the ones from the note she had found in the book.

If she didn't pick it up, she didn't have to read it. But Adele couldn't exactly ignore it. Instead she compromised, shoving it into her pocket for later. It would be ideal at this point to go back to sleep, but Adele wouldn't be able to. One, all the lights were on. Adele would much rather be tired all day in the light than try to sleep in the dark. Two, once Adele was awake, it was quite hard to sleep again. And three, she didn't fancy watching Sherlock jumping off a roof again. It had been ages since she'd had that dream, and now it was back. Hopefully not for too long.

Adele decided that the best way to entertain herself was not, this time, reading. She instead retrieved some paper and a biro from the corner of the room.

'You should be asleep.'

Adele jumped. Again. This had better not be a regular occurrence, it was incredibly annoying.

'So should you.'

Sherlock shrugged. 'You're thirteen. I'm trying to work something out.'

'So? Being thirteen hasn't stopped you letting me do anything before.'

'I've changed my mind.'

'You never change your mind.'

'I have now.'

'Why?'

Sherlock looked as though he had to deliberate his answer. Adele crossed her arms, trying and most likely failing, to look annoyed. Which she was.

'Because-'

'Because you think I'm stupid?' It was the most obvious answer. He probably did, anyway.

'I don't think you're stupid. I think-'

'You think you're suddenly going to stop me going out and making my own choices for no apparent reason?'

'That's not-'

'Then what is it?!'

'Now you're being childish.'

'You admit it! You do think I'm a child!'

'You _are_ a child! Adele, you're thirteen!'

'Last time I checked, you were telling everyone that I deserved to be treated like an adult!'

'And now I've changed my mind!'

'Well that's not fair!'

'I can change my mind! I'm still your guardian, and you still have to listen to me!'

'Fine.'

Adele hated ending arguments with _fine_. It was possibly the worst word to use in an argument. Sherlock looked as though he was about to throw something, although he wouldn't. He never would.

'You don't understand, Adele-'

'What do you mean _you don't understand_?!'

'I mean-'

'You do think I'm stupid! You think I'm too thick to appreciate your thoughts!'

'I think you're irrational and need to start thinking things through before you make decisions which are based on a random idea!

'I'm trying to sleep and you two are being ridiculous.' John had appeared the doorway, hair tussled and looking tired. 'Either pack it in or go and argue somewhere else.'

Adele scowled at John. He had plenty of arguments, and no one ever complained at him. True, it was three in the morning, but Sherlock's violin playing was more loud and annoying than this. And the violin was hardly proving a point, whereas Adele was. Sort of.

'Tell _him_ that I'm not stupid!'

'I didn't say that you were-!'

'Both of you! Do I really have to be the voice of reason _all_ the time?!' Sherlock was acting like a badly behaved child at this point, whistling and tapping his feet restlessly. When neither him nor Adele responded, John continued; 'Thank you. Get along.'

Adele could tell that Sherlock was smirking, but she knew that making eye contact with him would only make her laugh. True, she was trying not to laugh, because John being annoyed was actually quite funny. And the fact that he was trying to discipline Sherlock was actually hilarious. As soon as John had disappeared back into his room, Sherlock and Adele both began to snigger. This continued for several seconds, until both composed themselves enough to be able to face each other again.

'But you should really be asleep.' Trust Sherlock to be serious. Adele shrugged. Should she tell him? It _would_ make him feel guilty, which was something Adele hadn't really done for a while.

'And?'

'Why aren't you?'

'Because.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Can I guess? Because I think I know why.'

'You do that.'

'I think,' He looked at her knowingly, as though he could read her mind. He probably could, but Adele wouldn't admit that. 'I think you've been having bad dreams. Am I right?'

'No.'

'No?'

'You heard me.'

'Then what is it?'

'Something else.'

'Adele. Tell me.'

She gave up. What was the point in lying to him? 'I thought it stopped.' She muttered. 'But it's getting more vivid.'

When Sherlock didn't respond, Adele continued. 'It's nothing. Forget it.'

'It's not.'

'I said forget it.'

'Why?'

'There are more important things to deal with.'

Sherlock grimaced. 'I should be grateful it's not the-' He stopped suddenly. He was going to say the screaming. No. She couldn't and wouldn't think about it. 'You sure you're okay?'

'I'm _fine_. Go back to scribbling or whatever you were doing earlier.' Sherlock simply shrugged and left, but Adele doubted that would be the last of his questions.

Well, she wouldn't sleep now. Adele picked her book back from the floor. Another four or so hours of reading until she could finally do something else.

_So. Um. Hope you liked. Took longer to write. Hope you enjoyed._

_REVIEW IF YOU LIKE STUFF. REVIEW IF YOU LIKE JAM. REVIEW IF YOU LIKE KITTENS. REVIEW IF YOU LIKE JAM FLAVOURED KITTENS. _

_BYE :D_


	21. Chapter 21

'Adele?'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

This had been going on for hours. Adele had been sitting reading ever since the argument with Sherlock. At some point, he must have relocated to the living room, where he and Adele sat in silence, Adele reading, and Sherlock being annoying.

Or at least, that was how Adele saw it.

Hammet's absence was becoming incredibly annoying. Adele had gotten as far as assuming that one of the blonde kids had been leaving the notes. But it still didn't explain why Hammet had suddenly gone silent. Maybe he was building up to something? If he was, Adele was pretty sure she was doomed, along with whoever he kidnapped this time. Kaylee of all people had solved the last one. And that had been easy, when Adele read it back. Although she was trying to refrain from doing so, considering that every time she did, she could hear, very faintly, Eliza's screaming in her ears. Considering that Sherlock still hadn't given her a proper reason for it _not_ being Eliza, it was quite likely that Adele was right this time.

John had gone out to see Kaylee, and considering that it was now what Adele classed as _time to eat something_, she was extremely resentful of Kaylee at the moment. Adele didn't trust Sherlock to make anything edible, so it looked like she would either have to go out, which she wasn't allowed to do, or she would have to eat more cola bottles. They might have been her favourite food, but they were probably quite unhealthy. More than quite. Very.

But there wasn't much she could do about it. Every so often, Sherlock would look up and ask her name, to which Adele would glare at him and ask what he wanted, and to which he would reply _nothing_. The hours passed, but nothing happened, minus advancing through the book and occasionally thinking about how best to yell at John or Kaylee. Adele couldn't really decide which.

It must have been about eight when John finally returned. Sherlock barely even acknowledged John, although John was probably used to it by now. Adele glared at him for what was most likely an entire minute, before John turned around.

'Why are you looking at me like you want to kill me?'

Adele shrugged. 'I didn't know it looked like that. I just want you to know I'm annoyed at you.'

Sherlock chuckled slightly, but didn't speak. John frowned. 'Why?'

'Because there's no decent food here and he can't cook.' Adele nodded in Sherlock's direction on the word _he_.

'There's bread. You could make toast.'

'Me? Something might explode.' John shook his head, as though he was trying to rid himself of some sort of awful thought.

'Are you basically asking me to make you toast?'

'Yes. And then explain why you didn't tell me how long you would be.'

'I was only gone-'

'All day. Please?' Adele smiled at him. Either John would feel guilty, or he would be terrified. Whichever, there would be food. And that was a result.

It worked, because soon all Adele could hear was John trying to work his way around the kitchen. She could sort of understand why he went out now. At least he didn't have to brave what was a potential health hazard all day. Sherlock looked rather smug every time John complained, and Adele couldn't help feeling slightly pleased.

'Think of this as a punishment, John!' Adele called over the crashing. 'For leaving me here with him all day!'

At this Sherlock looked up, alarmed. Why? 'Am I that bad?'

'You can't cook and you keep talking about rubbish. Yes you are.' Sherlock rolled his eyes, and returned to writing. What was he doing? Adele made a mental note to steal the papers next time he left them somewhere.

John returned from the kitchen eventually, with food for both Adele_, _himself, _and_ Sherlock. Like he would eat anything. Sherlock frowned at the plate that John held out in front of him. John muttered something about how eating was just as important as breathing, although it was cut off by Sherlock repeatedly saying the word _boring_.

'Was that the first word you ever said? Boring?' Adele ripped a piece of toast in half.

'No.'

'What was it?'

'I'm not telling you.'

'It was, wasn't it?'

'No.'

'You never tell me anything.'

'That's not true.'

'It is.'

John looked wary of conflict. He would probably change the subject in five, our, three, two-

'Adele, you got a letter.'

'_What_?' Adele never got letters. There wasn't exactly anyone to send them to her. Sherlock had also looked up in surprise. Who the hell would send her a letter? John threw an envelope over. Adele glanced at the front, but she didn't recognise the writing.

'Give it to me.' Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. Adele passed it over, but it only took a two second look for him to give it back. 'Don't recognise it.'

'Glad we can all agree on something. John, was this in your pocket all day?'

'Yes, I-'

'Open it.' Sherlock cut John off, eyes alight with excitement. 'This is the most interesting thing that's happened all day.'

Adele exchanged a look of complete confusion with John, but proceeded to open it anyway. There was something in the back of her mind telling her that it wouldn't be anything good.

_Me again! I've had a day or two off, just to make sure I got everything right this time. But I'm back! Have you been enjoying my notes? Gretl was great with those, I must say. She got into your flat under your very nose! Even Sherly didn't notice! God, we're geniuses. But enough about me. _

_I know I said I'd either get that DI or landlady, but they would be boring, and I don't think either of us wants that! So I've skipped ahead a bit, and you'll hate me for this. But it's fun, which is what this is all about!_

_So I've got Eliza! Your little friend! I'm so cruel! But you'll get a challenge this time! _

_And remember: If you get any help, I'll shoot. I was feeling nice last time, but not now. I know, having to listen to your friend screaming isn't nice and blah blah, but it was nice for me to watch._

_So do this on your own Adele. I mean it. You can have three days, starting from the hour you open this letter. _

_I'm watching._

Adele turned the paper over, where she found the riddle;

_Five people of different nationalities live in a row of five houses of different colour. Each person prefers a different beverage, smokes a different brand of cigar and keeps a different kind of animal. Can you figure out who owns the fish?_

_The Brit lives in the Red house._

_The Swede keeps dogs as pets._

_The Dane drinks tea._

_The Green house is on the left of the White house._

_The owner of the Green house drinks coffee._

_The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds._

_The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill._

_The man living in the centre house drinks milk._

_The Norwegian lives in the first house._

_The man who smokes Blends lives next to the man who keeps cats._

_The man who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill._

_The man who smokes Blue Master drinks beer._

_The German smokes Prince._

_The Norwegian lives next to the Blue house._

_The man who smokes Blends has a neighbour who drinks water._

Adele stared at the paper for several seconds, not noticing anything but the words. She shut her eyes for several seconds, desperately hoping that this was all a bad dream. But when she opened them again, the paper was still in her hand.

'Adele? What is it?'

'Eliza.'

'But he said-'

'Read it.' Adele threw the first piece of paper at him. No one spoke for several seconds as Sherlock read the letter. How was she supposed to solve _that_? He'd given her clues, so it was obviously difficult.

And three days.

How?

'Adele-'

'No.'

'Listen to me-'

'No.'

'You need to stay –'

'No.'

'Adele, listen to me.'

'Why should I?!' Adele spun around, glaring at Sherlock. John was looking his feet, probably unsure of what to say or do. At this point, for no apparent reason, Adele was finding this incredibly annoying.

Sherlock took a deep breath. 'John, go and-'

'John stays out of this.' Adele snarled. This was for two reasons. One, John was annoying and would get in the way. Two, there was no point dragging more people into this. Maybe John would stay of Hammet's list if he didn't get involved.

Sherlock ignored her and carried on. 'John, go and get me a pen and paper. Adele,' He crouched down so as to be at her height. Was she really that short? Apparently so. 'You're not going to even think about working that riddle out now. You're tired, aren't you?'

So maybe that was true. Maybe getting up at three in the morning was a stupid idea. But still. Being tired didn't make the riddle any different. But she nodded anyway.

'Exactly. So you're going to go to sleep and look at it tomorrow.'

Adele scowled, as though it would cover up the fact that, in reality, she was close to tears. Before she knew it, Sherlock had pulled her into a hug, and she was crying. Actually crying. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to make friends?

'It's okay. Understand? Everything is _fine_.'


	22. Chapter 22

_**Hi… Remember me? I am here! I was just… not here. But I am here! With a friend! IngridNixie has yet again been awesome and I'm happy. Look, I've been busy. I've basically just moved countries [hence my profile saying that I'm in Canada], and I went to see my new school [ugh ugh ugh], plus I wasn't meant to start until September so I'm now running around buying stuff. Not pleased. But guys, I see that you read this. I check the stats, from time to time. So, if you have a spare minute, please review? Just a short thing, it doesn't matter, but it makes me pleased . **_

_**Love you!**_

_Slap_

_Bang_

_Crash_

_Burn_

'_Don't Scream_

_Stay quiet_

_Screaming makes it hurt'_

_I live in a castle_

_My garden has flowers_

_And around it there's a wall_

_And I can hide in the tallest tower_

_'Stop!'_

_No don't shout!_

_'Stop, please!'_

_She's crying now._

_It's your fault_

_Why would you do that?_

_She'd be fine if you had just stayed quiet_

'STOP!'

Adele woke with a start. She sighed, almost wishing the dream had been real. Getting up and dressed was as mundane a task as she could imagine. Although, she decided, sitting up, she'd rather that than potentially have to face the blonde kids in her pyjamas. Just as she was getting out of bed, her movement was halted by a sharp rap at the door. She frowned. Sherlock never knocked… so John then. But it had sounded more… insistent, than John would ever be. The knock came again.

'Hello?' Adele called out, a little hesitantly, gripping the side of her bed without thinking about it.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, thin man wearing a suit, his light brown hair seemingly defying gravity. His eyes alight, he fixed Adele with a wide smile. One that quickly turned into shock and confusion when Adele started to scream.

'Adele? Adele-' He began as she reached for the revolver in her bedside table, instinctively pulling her blanket up in front of her with one hand. The man held his hands up aside his head.

'Now, Adele,' He said reasonably. She ignored him.

'Sherlock!' She shouted out. 'Sherlock, John?!'

The man's eyes turned to confusion once more.

'Adele, I'm-'

'Who are you?!' Adele shouted, slightly bemused at how hysterical she was being. Well, there's a strange man in my room and no sign of Sherlock –or John– so it's reasonable, really. She thought vaguely.

'Adele, it's me!' The man said, as if it was obvious. 'It's Sherlock!'

Adele blinked. Of course! How could she have…? She shook her head and relaxed.

'Sorry, I…' She shook her head again. 'I don't know what I was…'

She smiled up at him.

'Er, Adele?' Sherlock asked, looking pointedly at the gun in Adele's –still stiffly outstretched– hand.

'What- Oh.' She put the gun back in its drawer. She paused. Since when did I have a bedside table? She shook her head.

'Come on then,' Sherlock was saying, already on his way out of the room.

Adele stood and swayed a little. Her half-asleep state was doing nothing for the confusion she still couldn't help feeling.

'There's a guy in the front room, want to see what you make of him.' Sherlock continued as she followed him. Had he always been this… enthusiastic?

Once in the living room, Adele rolled her eyes.

'Mycroft, what are you doing here?' She asked.

Both Sherlock and the man standing in their living room looked at her.

'Adele, you know this man?' Sherlock asked.

'I…' Adele hesitated. It was, Mycroft… wasn't it?

'Captain Jacque.' The man said by way of introduction, eyeing Adele warily.

Adele snorted.

'Which one?' She asked.

She grinned as "Captain Jacque" looked more than a little put out.

'What I came to talk about was of course, the matter of keeping things quiet.' He said to Sherlock, who nodded.

'What things?' Adele asked with a frown.

'You see, the world's bending over backwards to keep the wool over her eyes.' He went on. 'From knowing the truth, so to speak.'

'Who?' Adele asked. No one seemed to hear her.

'From remembering.' Sherlock said.

'That's right.' Jacque confirmed.

'What's right?' Adele asked, her frustration growing.

'But enough of all that! I have a job for you.' Jacque announced before Adele could start threatening them.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

'Oh yes?'

Jacque nodded.

'Young girl, an heiress. 1939.' He told them, looking at Adele for the first time. She averted her eyes.

'Right.' Sherlock grinned and sprang to his feet. He turned to Adele.

'Fancy the 30s?' He asked.

She rolled her eyes. Then stared.

'Wait, what?'

'Come on, it'll be fun!' He insisted.

Before Adele could reply, Sherlock had grabbed her hand and began to run. Her breathing hitched as she tried to keep up, the world around them blurring.

'W- what happened to the flat…?' She asked no one in particular.

Slowly, then all at once, the world materialised around them. A room. The décor was old, but looked brand new. The walls were made of wood panelling, plants scattered around and odd ornaments and artefacts on the walls, almost everything shining beyond belief. And in front of them stood a young girl in a black dress and white apron, frozen with her back to them.

'Ready?' Sherlock asked.

Adele shook her head anxiously. Sherlock grinned and raised a hand to click his fingers.

And then she remembered. This was what they did. Her and Sherlock. Solving crimes through time, stopping killers that had never been brought to justice. How could she have forgotten?

The world started, and the maid in front of them jumped. As she turned, Adele's mouth fell open. Eliza…

'Oh, sorry Sir, Miss.' She said hurriedly, looking down at the floor. 'You gave me a fright.'

'Oh, that's alright!' Sherlock beamed.

Adele stared at him. This wasn't Sherlock. Something had to be wrong, something…

'I understand there's an investigation going on?' Sherlock was asking.

The maid suddenly came over all teary eyed. Adele rolled her eyes.

'T- that's right, Sir. The little girl it was. Poor thing, she- I'm sorry Sir, I shouldn't- but she was so lovely, and…'

'Hey, it's okay.' Sherlock comforted. 'Look, I'm Sherlock and this is Adele. We're here to help.'

Adele didn't understand. She couldn't understand. Sherlock couldn't be this out of character. It wasn't possible.

'You mean, you'll get them, the one who did it?' The girl asked hopefully.

'Yes. What's your name?'

'Eliza.' Adele said automatically, while the maid said something else. Both she and Sherlock turned to look at Adele in confusion.

'Martha…' The girl repeated, looking at Adele unsurely. 'Martha Jones.'

'Well, Martha Jones,' Sherlock said 'we're going to find out who did this, I promise. Now. Is there a police investigator?'

Martha Jones groaned.

'Yes, but he's hopeless. He thinks it was an open an' shut domestic murder, see?'

Hearing those words, in that dialect, come out of Eliza's mouth was weird, to say the least.

'And you think it wasn't?' Sherlock asked.

Martha Jones suddenly looked hesitant.

'Well, I…' She bit her lip. 'I wouldn't want to speak out of turn, like…'

'No, no!' Sherlock assured. 'Purely confidential.

'Well, the inspector thinks it was 'er Step-Mother, see?'

Sherlock nodded in interest.

'But only it can't be, 'cause I seen her in the village only a minute after Rose found her – she's the head housemaid.'

'How long does it take to get to the village?'

'An hour or so on foot –which she was- an' the doctor said that she couldn't 'ave been dead for more'n ten minutes before Rose found 'er.' Her face took on a whimsical expression that made Adele gag. 'Oh, and everyone loved 'er so, Sir. No one who knew 'er would have the heart to harm 'er.'

The girl continued to babble, and Adele's mind began to wander. She found herself unable to concentrate on one thing at a time, thoughts whizzing around in her head like tiny bubbles. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. Shut, open, shut, open. Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles…

'I shouldn't tell you, really.'

She blinked.

And then a man entered the room.

'What's all this then?'

'Hello!' Sherlock said brightly

Adele looked up and stared. It wasn't… was it? But, who…

'Detective Inspector John Watson, and who are you?' The man demanded.

'Me? Nobody, really, no one at all.' Sherlock grinned.

Inspector Watson opened his mouth to speak, looking certifiably outraged, but he didn';t have a chance to get any words out.

'We are here, to solve your case before you muck it up, so if you don't mind, we'll be getting on with it.' Adele said definitely, silently praying no one would notice that she was a thirteen-year-old girl in her pyjamas.

'Oh, and we'll need full access to the crime scene, if that's quite alright with you.' She finished sweetly, before stalking past the detective.

She heard Sherlock give a little laugh before catching up to her.

'Do we have any idea where the crime scene is?' She muttered.

'That's not how I travel.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Great.'

A lot of the time, Adele hated the older crime scenes. Thirties was relatively okay, at least they had some idea of what they were doing. They were, for instance, pretty good at doing the whole dusting for fingerprints thing. Unfortunately, they tended to convict the wrong people, hence Sherlock and Adele's appearance at several scenes of the same nature of the one they were currently experiencing. Adele thought she recognised the photograph of the victim for a moment, one of the bubbles in her head briefly flashing an image of her and someone called 'John', but she shrugged it off. She seemed to be doing that a lot today.

The murdered girl was Amelie Strange, twenty-one years old, and had been found strangled in the drawing room by, as Martha had said, the head housemaid. The house currently contained a party of guests, and Adele found herself wondering if she'd stumbled into an Agatha Christie mystery. And indeed, if a baggy Batman T-shirt and a pair of leggings were appropriate attire for such an occasion. She wondered vaguely if Sherlock ever changed.

'Adele?' A whisper, urgent and quick. Adele turned abruptly. But there was no one.

'Adele?' It was Sherlock this time, concerned, but a little entertained. Adele realised that was always an undercurrent in his voice. 'No it isn't.'

She shook her head.

'I'm fine.' She said, feigning a smile. She tried to remember what they were doing. Ah yes. Questioning. Apparently Martha wasn't the only one who'd seen Mrs Strange in the village. The doctor's daughter, a girl named –to Sherlock's delight– Katherine Holmes claimed to also have seen her, and she was coming in to be questioned, along with the rest of the house guests. The victim's father had apparently been suffering from an illness for the past three months, and kept to his bed. Adele could understand the detective's reasoning that with the girl gone and her father dying, the step-mother, Claudia Strange, stood to gain a considerable amount. But she and Sherlock were there for a reason.

Adele jumped as the large front door of the house was opened, presumably to admit Katherine Holmes. Sherlock jumped up eagerly, and Adele followed him into the hall. In seeing Katherine Holmes, she got the shock of her life. She was seeing a dead girl walking. Her arm flung out in front of her as if of it's own accord.

'It's her!' She gasped. 'That's Amelie Strange, that's her!'

Sherlock turned to her.

'What? Adele, that's not-'

Adele didn't look at him. She looked into the eyes of the girl at the door. The dead eyes. The dead and gone eyes. She was grinning. Adele shook as Sherlock came toward her. And then Katherine, or Amelie, or whoever she was –'Kaylee' the voice whispered– winked. Adele felt a surge of pain shoot through her body. She was falling, falling into something dark. She reached for Sherlock. But he wasn't reaching for her. He was showing her something… She squinted through the pain. A… a photograph? A girl… a dead girl. A teenage girl, with blonde hair. 'Blonde kids' The whisper again. Katherine Holmes was smiling. She curled a finger around her hair and winked. More pain. Then black.

_More pain_

_Don't scream_

_Was Sherlock always this…?_

_Black_

_Bending over backwards_

_She curled a finger around her hair and winked_

_Stay quiet_

_Blonde kids_

_Keep the wool over her eyes_

_Winked_

_Was Sherlock always_

_Eyes_

_Since when did I have a bedside table?_

_I live in a castle_

_Was Sherlock_

_Curled a finger round_

_Wool_

_Don't shout!_

_Always_

_Kids_

_Dead_

_Sherlock?_

_Screaming makes it hurt._

'You're going to die, Adele Holmes.'

'No- No!'

'Adele?'

The voice was older than her own, and kinder. Her eyes adjusted to the harsh light above her, and she saw a face. Molly smiled.

'There you are!' She beamed.

Adele blinked, and realised she was lying down. On something… cold and warm at the same time. A hospital bed.

'Where…?' She breathed

'Shh, now.' Molly hushed, putting a finger to her lips. She smiled again, and adjusted the bed so Adele was sitting up. It was then that she realised that she was strapped to the bed.

'Wha…' But her jaw was slack, and making even small sounds seemed a colossal effort. Molly shushed her again, and she looked about instead. She was in the flat. Mrs Hudson was there, smiling widely. Molly stood back, and the two women sighed at the same moment, identical smiles on their faces. Adele flinched. It was unnerving, to say the least. There was a long moment of silence, and then Mrs Hudson spoke.

'We're so glad you get to leave dear.' She said kindly. Only it didn't seem kind.

'Leave?' Adele managed.

'Shhhhhhhhh.' Molly came forward to stroke Adele's hair.

'You've been here for far too long already.' She said sympathetically. Only it didn't seem sympathetic. 'We all think it's time.'

Adele stared at her.

'What d-' She spluttered.

'Shhh.'

'It'll be alright, dear.'

'Wh-'

Molly's hand closed over her mouth.

'Shhhhhhhhhhhh.'

All was white. Adele lifted her hands to her face, grateful she could perform that simplest of actions. Actually… she was grateful for everything. Everything that had happened. Because it had led her here. Where was here? She found she didn't care. Suddenly, something in her woke up. Sherlock.

'Sherlock?' She called out into the white.

And sure enough. She didn't know if the white was so thick he had simply stepped towards her, or if he had appeared in mid air. Either way. She engulfed herself in his arms. Something that she had misplaced came back to her. And she cried. She pulled away to look at his face.

'You jumped.' She said, knowingly.

He nodded. She smiled.

'It wasn't you.' She whispered.

He cocked his head to the side in interest.

'You came back, but you weren't you, you were someone else.' She explained. 'Someone pretending, lying. Laughing'

Adele wasn't quite sure when her tone had gotten so bitter, but it had. And it must have been about the same time that Sherlock's face had become pitiful.

'But there's been a terrible mistake, Adele.' He said solemnly.

Her eyes became questioning. The white parted. Clouds, and sky. And concrete. Sherlock smiled, and shook his head.

'You don't belong here, Adele.'

Adele realised, too late, that Sherlock had taken her out of the white world. And onto the roof of St Bart's hospital. She had not a second to react as Sherlock shoved her.

She toppled backwards, over the edge. She turned, over and over her body flipped in the air. She reached for Sherlock. But he wasn't reaching for her. She curled a finger around her hair and winked. Black, black, black. Falling…

'I'm sorry.'

The whisperer.

'Leave me alone!'

'I'm sorry for what's happened to you. What he's done.'

'He hasn't done anything!'

A laugh.

'I guess you could say that.'

'Shut up! Leave me alone!'

'You're so clever. You work things out. Fast. Your feelings are stopping you.'

'Go away!'

'If you would just listen.'

'Go away, go away, GO AWAY!'

_Black._

_Don't scream_

_You're going to die, Adele Holmes_

_Bending over backwards_

_We're so glad you get to leave_

_Stay quiet_

_Blonde kids_

_Die_

_Keep the wool over her eyes_

_Winked_

_Eyes_

_Go away_

_I live in a castle_

_Adele Holmes_

_Curled a finger round_

_Terrible mistake_

_Wool_

_I'm sorry_

_Don't shout!_

_Always_

_Sorry_

_Clever_

_Sorry_

_Die_

_Sorry_

Sherlock?

Screaming makes it hurt.

_**SA/N (Surrogate author's note): Hi! Hope you enjoyed Dream Time with Adele Holmes! In the interest of stopping people reviewing with "OOC OOC blegh blegh", I shall point out that Sherlock in the first couple of passages is being played by the 10th Doctor. Not David Tennant, because he would play him well. This is the 10th Doctor playing Sherlock very very badly. Here's to hoping I didn't screw up royally, and I have many other ideas (concerning 'Donovan, Sally Donovan.' in her leather jacket and some Hammety Hammet fun) so maybe we'll do this again some time! Hands up if I made you cry! (Because I totally didn't, I mean… UWAH! Sherlock, you're such a butt!) Ehem. S'later lovely lovely reading-type people. I love you. I do. And we all love PotterSherlocketc. So we've got that in common.**_

_**-IngridNixie**_


	23. Chapter 23

_*shuffles out in shame* Hi. Um. Sorry it's been so long. I sort of have an excuse. I've been at school [In Canada! Weirdness], and just got back to the UK, and I'm jetlagged and this needed heavy editing. You'll get 24, which is to be more dramatic, ASAP. I'm sorry. If you fancy reviewing, it would be truly appreciated and I would love you forever. Just saying._

Adele woke with a start. The first thing she noticed was that someone had left that light on. The second thing she noticed was that through her closed bedroom door, the flat was fairly noisy. Adele glanced her phone, which showed the time to be nine in the morning.

That was a shock in itself. It had certainly been a while since she had woken up at a decent time.

Of course, the downside of having a full night of sleep was the temptation to stay in bed for the whole day. If only she could. It took a few seconds for Adele to remember what was going on- Not only had the entire experience managed to disorientate her, but she also felt slightly light-headed.

In the end, Adele dragged herself out of bed. It had been a while since she had really noticed anything in the room. Before, Adele had barely registered the colours of anything in her room- yet, as she looked around, she couldn't help but become annoyed by the way the grey carpet and white rug just didn't seem to work together. But there was no point in dwelling on that. The room was scarcely furnished at all, as Adele hadn't really cared- as long as she had a computer and phone, it was hardly important.

There was also something else. Adele's clothing had changed. What were once black jeans and a blazer was now blue jeans and whichever hoodie or jumper she could find. The only thing remaining consistent was the shoes. The old, battered black converse, the very shoes that she had never tied up, which had in turn basically led to her being shot. As she remembered, Adele flinched slightly, hearing the echo of the bullet leaving the gun. Adele shook her head. This was not the time to be remembering that. No. This was the time to-

Solve the riddle.

Eliza.

Just the thought of it bought on a wave of tears, and Adele had to grit her teeth and dig her nails into the palm of her hands. As questions flooded her head, Adele shook her head, as though that would in any way banish them. It worked to some extent, because now Adele had to try not to faint. This wasn't good. Adele stood up, swaying slightly. Leaning against the table, she pulled her fingers through her hair, trying to make it look presentable. She must have struggled a lot in her sleep, because her hair was messier than usual, and her duvet, Adele now realised, was half hanging off the bed. There were also several new scratches to add to the collection along her arms. Great.

Adele regained her balance and walked into the front room. Sherlock and John were both already there, although John looked incredibly distracted. Adele had a feeling that Kaylee had either called, texted, or come up as a topic of conversation. Indeed, Sherlock looked pretty amused, and also slightly pleased with himself.

When he appeared from the floor, John jumped.

'Adele!'

'John!'

Sherlock chuckled, and John shook his head. But all the smiles were fake. Adele could feel Sherlock's eyes on her, and only a complete idiot could possibly miss the looks exchanged between him and John. But Adele decided to leave them clueless to what she knew; it would be interesting.

'Adele, what happened to your arm?'

Adele glanced down at her arm, realising that the scratches were a lot more noticeable than she had first thought. 'Good question.'

John looked confused, but said nothing more as he put a plate full of several pieces of toast onto the table. He paused, and then gave both Adele and Sherlock a stern look.

'When was the last time either of you two ate a proper meal?'

Sherlock shrugged, scrolling absent mindedly through his phone. Adele thought back to the night before, digging her nails into her hands once again. Did a bite of toast count? It was worth a try.

'Well I ate toast last night.'

'Adele, you nibbled it for about five seconds.'

'Oh. Then… A few days ago?'

John's exasperated look quickly became one worry. And he wondered why Adele didn't talk to him much anymore? 'Sherlock? Are you listening?'

'Yes.'

'No, you're not.'

'Yes.'

'You're on your pho-'

'Doesn't mean I'm not listening.'

'Yes it does, you-'

'Remember who you're talking to John. I am listening.'

'Then answer my original question.'

'Will you give me a lecture?'

'I-'

'Thought so. Adele, eat something, John's concerned.'

'Adele isn't the only one I'm worried about!'

Adele looked up from counting the scratches on her arm, not sure whether she was surprised or not. Sherlock looked slightly conflicted, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't. Adele looked from John to Sherlock, not wanting to interrupt the silence. Finally, Sherlock spoke.

'Thank you for your concern.'

John nodded slightly. Adele now seriously regretted her decision to get up; it would have been a whole lot less awkward if she had just stayed where she was. Still, she allowed John to place two slices of toast in front of her, rested her chin on her arms, and cast her mind away from the general conversation. Her main concern was, of course, solving the riddle, and putting it off wouldn't make it any easier. Hammet was probably on standby for the moment when she eventually began working on it.

'Adele?'

'Hm?' Adele flicked her eyes up for find Sherlock looking at her, apparently trying to talk. He frowned.

'I asked you a question.'

Adele gave him a death glare, so he continued. 'When are you going to look at that riddle?' Adele shrugged in response, so Sherlock continued. 'You can't hide from it forever.'

'I'm not hiding.'

'Really?'

Adele didn't respond. 'The sooner you look at it, the sooner you finish it.'

'You mean the sooner I look at it, the sooner I get it wrong and-'

'Adele.'

'Sherlock.'

Both glared at the other, Adele trying desperately not to give in. At last he spoke;

'You have that little faith in your own intelligence?'

'Sorry, I thought I was talking to Sherlock Holmes, the intellectual genius and over-inflated show-off. What have you done with him?'

John, who Adele had temporarily forgotten to have been present in the room, laughed, although a look from Sherlock immediately shut him up. Adele, resigned to the fact that it would be an incredibly stupid idea to snack on cola bottles for the rest of the day, spent the next ten minutes tentatively nibbling on the toast, managing one slice before John and Sherlock gave up.

0ooo0

Adele sat on the floor, the letter, several pieces of paper, and a pen in front of her. If she was honest, the riddle made less sense than anything she had ever heard, including the _apple a day_ pronoun. The furthest Adele had gotten with solving it was drawing a chart on one of the pieces of paper. Three days, at this rate, would not be long enough to solve it. Suddenly, an idea struck her;

'I need a bigger canvas.'

Sherlock and John looked up, confused, so Adele tried to explain in the best way that she could;

'The paper's too small. I need something larger… Like a wall.'

John maintained the look of confusion, but some sort of realisation dawned on Sherlock's face. 'A wall?'

'Yes, a wall.'

'Your room.'

'What?'

Sherlock looked at Adele and John as though they were idiots. 'Adele, you want a bigger canvas. Like a wall. You have a wall in your room. Use that.'

'You're letting me paint my room?'

Sherlock nodded.

'Do we have any paint?'

It was then that Sherlock realised the flaw in his plan. But then, he looked up at John, who stared back in yet more confusion.

'What?'

Adele joined Sherlock in his act which apparently, by the looks of things, was to stare at John until he went out to buy paint.

'Oh for God's… Am I your slave or something?'

The temptation to nod was high, but Adele resisted. John got up, grudgingly.

'You two are bloody ridiculous.'

Adele and Sherlock smirked as he left. Poor John. But whilst Adele felt sorry for him, it was also quite fun to boss him around, and John would always do as she asked. Sherlock was stubborn, and sometimes boring.

Adele had left her phone in her pocket and on silent, determined not to let anything distract her. But she knew that it wouldn't last. Someone, probably Hammet, would have texted her. But it didn't matter. Chances were that whatever he said was a lie. Maybe he didn't have Eliza. Maybe, just maybe, he was faking the entire thing. Unlikely, considering the reality of the screaming. Adele pushed it out of her mind, going back to the paper. There wasn't much point looking at the riddle until John got back, so without thinking, Adele began to sketch. Biro was actually more fun than pencil, and soon enough for some reason, miniature dragons filled the page. Some breathing fire, other sleeping. One of the fire breathing ones was attacking a very small person, who Adele decided to identify as Hammet. But in the corner of the page, Adele had drawn a very small cat.

'Adele?'

'Yes?' Adele looked up, halfway through drawing yet another dragon.

'You've drawn dragons and then a cat.'

'Yes.'

'Okay.'

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

'Your eyes are very… blue.'

'Yes.'

'But they look sad.'

Adele flickered her eyes over to the window and back. 'Oh. Okay.'

'Why?'

Adele shrugged. 'Use your powers of deduction.'

'I'd rather have it directly from you.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Yes it does.'

Adele shook her head.

'No. What matters is solving this.'

'Adele-'

'No. When I finish this, you can question me as much as you want.'

'But-'

'_Leave it_.'


	24. Chapter 24

Adele finished drawing the last line on the rectangle. Generally, she detested paint, both for its inability to accurately draw a dragon, and the foul smell. Still, it was the only thing that could be used to make a bold line on the wall. She then divided the rectangle into six parts, one for each house, plus a spare. Just as Adele had begun to draw the lines across, John walked in.

'Hi.'

'Where's Sherlock?'

'Out. I've, um, been meaning to talk to you.'

'Yes?'

'About... Well... You know. What happened.'

'What happened _when_, John?'

'Well…'

Adele glared at him. 'Spit it out.'

'When Sherlock-'

'Oh. That. What about it?'

John didn't speak for a moment, and Adele took the opportunity to name to left hand side vertical rows. _Colour. Person. Drink. Smoke. Pet._

'I wanted to ask… specifically… about well.'

Adele turned around, trying to glare at John in as threatening manner as she could manage. 'John. It would be really helpful if you could actually finish a sentence.'

'Well… on the roof, and-'

'Shut up.'

'I'm just wondering-'

'John, please shut up.'

'Adele.'

'_What_?'

'You know I won't. And you know that that isn't the only thing I want to talk to you about.'

'Correct.'

'So will you let me speak?'

'No.'

'But-'

'John.' Adele whirled around, pointing the paintbrush at him. 'Drop it.'

'Then let me ask you something else.'

'_What_?'

'Will you tell me the truth?'

'Fine. Whatever.' Adele bit at one of her nails. 'Hurry up.'

'What happened when you went to get Molly? And don't tell me to ask Sherlock because he won't tell me a thing.'

Adele frowned. 'Why?'

'He said to ask you.'

'Well… It was dark. I don't like the dark.'

John looked confused. 'Adele. You started yelling as soon as you were asked by Donovan. Look at me.'

Adele realised that she had let her eyes drift over to the window. She looked back at John. 'Look, it doesn't matter.'

'I want to know.' Adele shook her head and went back to looking at the riddle. 'Please.'

'Drop it.'

Adele listened as John left, then looked back up at the riddle. The stupid thing was boring her, but the fact of the matter was that, if she didn't solve it, Hammet would most likely stick a bullet in Eliza's brain.

Why was she suddenly so calm about it?

Well.

The one time Adele had actually made a friend, and now that friend was in a, not to sugar-coat it, hostage situation. And only an hour or two ago, Adele had been completely freaking out over it. And now she wasn't. Maybe that was the solution; think about something else. But Adele had been thinking about other things for ages, but they had all led back to Eliza, and in the end she knew that it would turn into a game with herself, a game of _let's relate _everything_ back to Eliza!_.

If only dragons were real. They would probably be pretty difficult to tame, but if Adele could set one on Hammet, it would probably be worth it.

Stupid little wishful thinker.

Adele _wanted_ to throw something across the room. As soon as she thought about it, Adele realised that the paintbrush was in serious danger of being snapped in half.

Adele looked back at the riddle. Where to start? She wanted to draw dragons all over the wall, but that was out of the question. Maybe later. Deciding to fill in the clues she had already been given, Adele dipped the brush back into the paint.

_The Norwegian lives in the first house._

Adele filled in the box as she heard the door slam.

_The Norwegian lives next to the blue house._

Therefore the second house had to be blue. Footsteps. Sherlock was back? Probably.

_The man living in the centre house drinks milk._

Another box completed. Adele stopped for a second as the footsteps neared. They sounded angry. Definitely Sherlock. He was always angry.

'I hate Mycroft.'

Adele shook her head. Her own opinion of Mycroft was pretty low at the moment for obvious reasons, but she didn't really want to discuss him at the particular moment. 'Yes, you do.'

'He's avoiding me.'

'Lucky you.'

'Not answering his phone.'

'Right.'

'He's not in his office.'

'Mm.'

'It's like he's disappeared.'

'If you hate him so much, then why do you care whether he's disappeared or not?'

'Because he has explaining to do.'

'Like Mycroft would give a straight answer to anything, even if you cornered him. And how difficult can it possibly be to find your own brother? There aren't many people under the name _Mycroft Holmes_ in the phone book.'

'I don't care. I want to find him.'

'Enjoy that.' An idea suddenly struck Adele. 'Hang on. How come we can't just _arrest_ Hammet?'

'Adele, if it was that simple, I wouldn't have a job.'

'Explain. Because I'm confused.'

'Several reasons. One; No one here wants _the police_ of all people involved.'

'Lestrade-'

'Didn't have a choice. Two; The police aren't clever enough to find Hammet. We don't know where he is until he tells us. And I think we can easily assume that we're being watched, because he knew that you didn't solve it completely with M-'

'Shut. Up.'

'Three; Once he tells us where he is, Hammet has to be careful. As I said, we're being watched. He's also not been present in any of our rescue missions, apart from Donovan. So he has some sort of hideout.'

'Yeah, but-'

'Last, we don't actually have any proof. He hasn't actually hurt anyone. Not in a way that we can easily prove.'

'Still.'

'And then we have the Mycroft dilemma. Which is why I'm trying to find him.'

'Good luck.'

'Adele, if _I_ can't find Mycroft, then how can the police find Hammet?'

'Mycroft is clever too.'

'And from experience Adele, we both know that the police force is full of idiots.'

Adele tutted. Admittedly, complaining about Mycroft was more fun than messing around with the stupid riddle, but it was incredibly distracting.

_Analysing all these facts revealed the following:_

_House three can't be green, because the owner drinks milk, not coffee. So house four _had_ to be green, since it required one to the right. _

_Which would be right._

Adele frowned at the wall. How had she known that? Looking back down at the paper it seemed so obvious. So how had she…?

Of course.

What else?

What else did a bored teenager stuck in a flat during the rain done to occupy herself?

She had looked up famous riddles. And on that list, amongst those which she had found and tried to work out had been-

This one.

What was the title? Adele couldn't remember _that_, but the details, the method to solving it, were all there. And even though she hadn't realised, _that_ was the reason she had drawn a chart without even thinking about any other way.

_Yes_.

And Hammet would hardly know. This had been ages ago, before any of this, before Hammet's very existence had even become known to her. This was from around the time of Irene Adler, Sherlock being all depressed and rain. Lots of rain.

It was raining right now.

Perfect.

Adele set to work. Every so often she would glance out of the window, letting the rain bring back images of the web page, not photographic memories, but close enough. Imagining the words, remembering the layout of the page, the chart.

_House one can't be red because the Norwegian lives there._

So the colour order would be…

_Yellow, blue, red, green, white._

_The Horse must be at house two._

_House one and three CANNOT have Birds or Dogs nor Pall Mall._

_Either house two or five have the Blue-masters - Beer._

_Since the horse is at house two, then it must also have the Dane (the Swede has Dogs after all)._

And now there were only six squares left. Adele was grinning, slightly pleased with herself. _This_ was clever. Because it wasn't cheating, it was using already acquired knowledge. Hammet just hadn't thought of the fact that Adele could have looked it up before.

Actually, now she thought about it, Adele was close to calling herself a genius. Of course, she could be wrong. This solution could have the wrong information. There might have been something she had missed.

But it all looked right.

_House three MUST have "Pall Mall - Birds"._

_"Blends next to Cats" can now only fit with Blends at house two and cats at house one._

_The German is now the only one without a pet, therefore owns the fish._

Yes.

Solved it.

Easier than she had thought.

Adele stood and stared at the wall. The rain continued to hammer against the window, but still she grinned.

'Adele? You… You solved it?'

Adele turned around to find John standing in the doorway, cup of tea in hand, looking even more shocked than the time when he had found Sherlock's friend the severed head, in the fridge.

'Yes! I solved it! _I _solved it!'


	25. Chapter 25

'Adele?'

'I'm not scared. I just really don't like the dark.'

'Your shoe lace is untied.'

'Oh. Right.'

Adele was sat next to Eliza, both leaning against one wall and staring at another. Adele wasn't quite sure whether this could be classed as kidnap, considering that she at least was here out of her own free will, but that had only kept her occupied for about ten minutes.

Once she had realised what solving the riddle meant, Adele had calmed down and checked her phone for the first time in hours that day. Hammet had, as she had expected, sent a message informing her to go back over to the Hammersmith school which she still didn't know the name of, prompting Adele to run out of the flat without even consulting Sherlock or John. Which had resulted in being dragged back, and Sherlock going with her. John had been less than pleased, going on and on about texting once they were there and all sorts. Except that hadn't worked. Because as soon as Adele and Sherlock had left the flat and made for the train station, another message had appeared.

Alone.

Adele had shivered just reading it. Sherlock, of course, had been less than pleased, and had sent several angry and rather abusive messages back. Hammet had kept replying with the same word, so Sherlock settled for half way- He went as far as the road that then school was on, before sitting down on a bench and tapping his foot impatiently. Adele had then spent several minutes staring apprehensively from the sky to the school, and back again, until she had remembered that Eliza was in there and sit would be a good idea to go and get her sooner rather than later.

So, there she was. Adele had gone through the front entrance this time, which had been left unlocked. How Hammet could still get into the place was a mystery. She had shivered slightly as she had gone in, but had pretty much stopped doing anything besides breathing and throwing insults after five minutes of hanging around, after someone had grabbed the back of her jumper and shoved Adele against the wall, before dragging her to the gym.

Which appeared to be Hammet's headquarters. Adele had watched the door swing shut behind her, and after a brief moment of silence in the darkness, Eliza had shrieked, coming towards her.

'Adele!' She shouted out, grabbing the shorter girl's shoulders.

Adele was surprised to say the least, but managed to maintain an air of indifference.

'Eliza.' She said coolly.

'What the hell is going on?!' Eliza was asking frantically. 'How did you-! Are Mum and Kitty okay?!'

Adele blinked.

'Um.'

'Adele? Are they okay?' Eliza asked desperately.

Now her eyes had adjusted a little to the dark, Adele could see that Eliza's face was harassed, her long hair in tangles, tear streaks staining her face. Her shirt was ripped at the sleeve. She was wearing her school uniform. Adele had forgotten, that Eliza was a girl. That things could hurt her, affect her, the way they would a normal person.

'Well, I don't know, do I.' She mumbled, not looking at the other.

'What? I've been stuck here for two days, and you don't *know*?!'

'I was *trying* to rescue you!'

'Oh, and where did getting yourself captured factor in?!' Eliza demanded

'He'll let us out.' Adele said quietly.

'What?'

'He always does, he-'

Her voice stopped abruptly as a hollow, maniacal, almost unearthly laughter floated over their heads. Possibly the creepiest laughter Adele had ever heard, and that included Moriarty. As the laughter died away, Adele took a breath, sat down against a wall, closed her eyes, and started panicking. She didn't notice any of this until Eliza pointed out the state of her laces.

The tears were back in Eliza's eyes.

'Well then, why are we even friends?!'

'You tell me!' Adele's voice echoed in the empty gym. Eliza didn't speak for several seconds, and the two girls glared at each other. 'Well?'

Eliza finally spoke, her voice timid. Now that she thought about it, had Adele ever shouted at her? Then again, Eliza had never shouted at Adele. 'You looked lonely.'

Adele open and shut her mouth like a goldfish. 'Out of pity? Is that it?'

'No, I- Adele, it isn't like that!'

'Then what is it like?' Adele demanded. 'Let me guess, new kid, looks a bit lost, and you immediately decide that they need some sort friend? If you must know, Eliza, I was trying to get rid of you from day one! The entire thing would have worked out so much better!'

'Well maybe this is one of the reasons why! You don't think, ever! You just go ahead and do stuff! And as far as I remember, you were more than happy to drag me along on your elaborate schemes!'

'You were all too happy to come along!'

'You would have taken off at me if I hadn't!'

'How do you know?!'

'Adele, it's not- I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't! Adele, look at me and honestly tell me that you weren't even a tiny bit upset the day we first met. Tell me, honestly, that you were seriously ready to spend the next however many days, weeks, whatever, on your own.' Adele didn't move. 'Look at me!'

Adele went back to glaring, but it was pretty useless. Nothing she ever did looked even mildly threatening. She looked away, watching her arm as she twisted the bracelet around it. She narrowed her eyes, even though she was almost certain that Eliza couldn't see.

'For the record, I was. I've never had friends, and I definitely wasn't expecting anything to change.'

'What were you expecting, then?'

'I- I don't know. This isn't only about me.' It was Eliza's turn to look away. 'Why, and give me an honest answer here, did you rush to be friends with me of all people?'

Eliza didn't even pause to think. 'You knew what it felt like to lose someone.'

'What?'

'Kitty.' She said simply. Adele was still confused, and apparently her face showed it. 'I told you. Or was I just hoping you could hear?'

'Yeah, I could.'

'And you remember it?'

Adele had to cast her mind back, but yes, somewhere in the very back was what Eliza had said about her sister. Even though it would only stay between Adele and her brain, she would never think of it as a conversation.

'Sort of. It was a bit fuzzy. Next time you want to tell me something important, wait until I'm at least half conscious.'

'Well I didn't know if you would be again. Sorry about that, by the way.'

'I survived. Actually that's the first time I've been able to say that completely truthfully.' Adele paused, and had to open and shut her eyes several times. 'Give me words to spell.'

Eliza laughed a little, although she still looked slightly guilty. Again, Adele had to cast her mind back, and from that she could recall something to do with guns and threats. Although that was a regular thing, guns and threats.

'Well, this could be a lot worse.'

'You know, you shouldn't say that.'

'What? Why?'

'Tempting fate.'

'Suspicion.'

'Eloquent.'

'What?'

'I thought you wanted to spell words.'

Adele stalled a moment, then sat down beside the other girl.

' t.' She paused, then asked 'What happened to your shirt?'

Eliza shrugged.

'I wasn't going without a fight.'

A pang of something that felt a whole lot like guilt seized at Adele's stomach.

'Chameleon.'

' n. You had to fight?'

'Sort of. More they fought, I struggled, but hey.'

Adele reached toward her bracelet, but was stopped by a hand in hers. The knot of the bracelet was pressed between Eliza's palm and her own, and despite her best efforts, Adele found it was impossible not to lace her fingers through those of the other girl.

'Onomatopoeia.'

'O n a-'

'Nuur! I'm sorry, that answer is incorrect, but thankyou for playing.'

'What was-'

'An 'O'. Not an 'A'.'

'Oh.'

'So, Hammet doesn't run this place any more.'

'Really? a-'

'No. He shot you, Adele.'

'Oh yeah, that.'

'Right.'

' o- wait a second.'

'That was right.'

'No, I... Did you say two days?'

'That I've been here?'

Adele nodded.

'Well, almost. I mean, is was last night, and that would be the first day, so.'

'Right.'

'What is it?'

'Nothing. Just an idea.'

'O n a-'

'No.'

'You know, I didn't think he'd actually keep you here for two days. a-'

'Wrong again. And why?'

'Because Hammet is an idiot.' Adele stated simply. ' a.'

'Finally. And what basis do you have for calling him that? Antidisestablishmentarianism .'

'Every basis. m.'

'Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious.'

Adele ignored the new word, deciding not to make a fool of herself by not being able to spell it. 'You know.' She began thoughtfully. 'I don't think your mother will be particularly pleased by the state of your school uniform.'


	26. Chapter 26

Adele hurled the book into the wall, watching as several pages fell out before the rest, and hit the ground. Unsatisfied, she kicked the fallen mess of paper, ripping several pages and pulling at the spine until the cover fell apart. The floor was now carpeted by that one book. Strangely, Adele felt no remorse, even though she had always taken care that her books stayed at least in one piece. This one was now completely ruined. With a pang of guilt, Adele realised that it was her copy of _Smiley's People_, the book Sherlock had gotten for her, and all but begged her to finish.

Adele and Eliza had only been forced to sit around for another hour after the spelling game. Without warning, someone had opened the door, forcing the two girls to squint into the bright sunlight. With only a moment's hesitation, they had jumped up and walked out, Eliza practically dragging Adele, who had and still was confused at Hammet's point. But no one had stopped them, and funnily enough, Sherlock was waiting on the same bench Adele had left him on. For a second, he had stared at the pair of them, and then had marched off, indicating that Adele and Eliza should follow. They had dropped Eliza off at her house and after a quick goodbye and an awkward hug, Sherlock had marched Adele back to the flat, tersely telling her to go to bed and not leave her room or go out. But it was only seven in the evening, and Adele couldn't sleep even if she tried.

The flat was full. Through the crack in her bedroom door, Adele could see John, Lestrade, Kaylee, Molly, Mrs Hudson and Sherlock himself sitting in the living room. If she seriously tried to listen, as she had, Adele could hear Sherlock talking to John about kidnapping and all sorts. But Adele had ignored it, and soon enough, Sherlock had gone to sitting down and apparently thinking.

And two and a half hours later, everything was still the same. Adele was restless- Several objects in her room had now been destroyed, and the entire setting was beginning to annoy her in some way. Hammet was still on her mind; specifically, how he was taking people. He had told Adele that he had Eliza at the same time as giving her the riddle, which was at least a day and a half before he actually had taken her. It made no sense. Why would he do that? Surely, Hammet, being Hammet, would either just take Eliza when he said he had, or would save the effort of lying.

Nothing made sense.

Adele had opened the window, trying to make the room more comfortable, but it only made everything cold. It felt just as, if not even more claustrophobic though. There wasn't much to do in Adele's room. Adele was too jumpy to read for more than five minutes, and her laptop was in the living room. The solution to the riddle had still been on the wall, but Adele had unearthed some large pieces of paper from under her bed, had sketched a couple of dragons onto them, and had pinned them over the wall with the riddle on it. It was still annoying. Adele only hadn't ripped them down because if she saw the riddle again, she would probably explode.

That was it. Adele needed to get out. Well, part of it was that she had been told to stay in.

Adele quickly peeped around the door, pleased to see that everyone in the living room was distracted. Quietly as she could, Adele edged the window open slightly further. She managed to scramble out, and sat half on the outside window sill, half still inside. Adele frowned, looking down at the street. It wasn't _that_ far, not compared to the roof of Bart's. It couldn't possibly be too difficult to get down, really. It was a bit late to go back, anyhow. There would be some element of defeat if she didn't climb down.

That settled it, really.

Adele could reach to pipe, and the wall had some convenient ledges. All it would really take was balance. Tentatively, she slid off the window sill, managing to scramble down, trying desperately not to make any noise. Adele gasped as her foot slipped, hoping that no one could hear. If it started raining, sit would be almost impossible to get all the way down. Adele managed to get near enough to the street to jump, but stumbled as she landed, swearing loudly. Maybe sneaking out wasn't really her thing.

Now what to do?

Adele knew London. It wasn't difficult to find your way around. It was only about nine thirty, so really, it wasn't even late. She set off walking, deliberately going in the opposite direction from any major landmarks. There were a couple of people still out, but nobody noticed her.

Adele wasn't sure of how long she walked for. Through a couple of side streets, across a couple of busy roads. She started down yet another smaller, unoccupied road when she became vaguely aware she might be being followed. She spun around a couple of times, but there was no one there. She could have sworn that she saw a flash of blonde hair, but she shook her head. She was getting paranoid.

Without warning, Adele felt a hand on her shoulder. Out of instinct, she turned quickly, intending to hit whoever it was, but almost stumbled backward when she realised who she was accompanied by.

The blonde boy.

Adele didn't have time to fight back as he slammed her against the wall and onto the ground. She sat there for a second, before remembering that her penknife would be in her pocket. It wouldn't help though. Once again, Adele was stuck in another situation in which she would come out far worse.

She moved to pull herself up, and then to her astonishment saw a hand offered to her. She looked up to see the boy smiling down at her as if they were old friends. For once, she managed to listen to the little voice in her head, and ignored the hand. Her back felt slightly bruised, but other than that, it was less painful than the last time. The look on the boy's face however, rendered it slightly more unnerving. She steadied herself, studying him for a moment, then threw out a punch with her right hand. The boy laughed lightly as her fist sailed past his head, and then shoved her to the ground. Adele caught her breath. He was still laughing. She could just run. Although that probably wouldn't go very well. The boy was bigger, and most certainly stronger than her, so fighting back would only make it worse. But she couldn't just _let_ herself be beaten up. That was ridiculous.

Again, she got up, but made no effort to move. She faced the boy neither of them speaking or moving. He smirked.

'It's odd.' He said suddenly.

This caught her off guard.

'What is?'

In her moment of confusion, he shoved her shoulders, and she hit the wall. As she stumbled, he spoke.

'This… _fascination_, he has with you.'

Adele glowered. Whatever 'fascination' Hammet had, it was stupid, and it wasn't going to dictate her life. She threw another punch. He grabbed her wrist and nudged at her chin with his other hand, forcing her to look at him. He frowned.

'As far as I can see, you're not so special. Although.' He shrugged. 'What do I know?'

'Nothing.' Adele said quietly.

'Excuse me?'

Adele kneed the only place she was sure would hurt. Stupid of him to put her in that position really. As he staggered backward, she made a break for it. At the end of the alley, she swayed. And was once more propelled into the wall. The boy was laughing again. By now, her vision was blurring. She kicked out at him, and he spun her round and hooked an arm around her neck. She struggled, but to no avail.

'You know, they said I couldn't kill you.'

Adele raised an eyebrow. Since when was that painful? She hadn't hit her head, had she? She ignored it. Now was really not the time to argue with herself. Gasping, she dug her fingernails into his arm, moving her head to bite. But he had already grabbed her wrist and was swinging her round with apparent ease. Her back hit hard against the wall and an arrow of pain shot through her.

'Shit, they said I couldn't even _break _you.' The blonde boy was saying. He grasped her collar and slammed her flat against the brick.

'But look!' He said, smiling as if he were talking to a five year old. 'You won't be broken! Just bruised.' He paused, and screwed up his face thoughtfully, then added '…And minorly concussed.'

Adele spat in his face, and he turned away. When he turned back, his face bore a horrifying grin. Again, the little voice took control and Adele screamed. The boy looked suddenly panicked, and slammed his hand over her mouth. Adele seemed to lose her breath, rendering screaming impossible. She concentrated on hyper-ventilating.

'Bad move.' The boy said.

And then his fingers pressed down on the thin scar on her wrist. She cried out in pain. The world was hazy, in part from the tears that had somehow worked their way into her eyes, but mostly from the pain. She had never felt this weak, not since… This was it. This was what it had felt like. This and a thousand times worse. But this pain would pass. It had to. Unless it ended with what all things do.

And then in the middle of the horrible cocktail of pain, fear, and misery, came a shout. Adele tried to follow it with her head, but it wouldn't move the way she wanted it to. Suddenly, the boy's hands were pulled from her, and she collapsed onto the ground. The shouts continued, and through her haze of tears Adele saw a tall male figure with dark hair tackling the boy's fair one.

_Sherlock._

How had he known? Her mind shot that down immediately. Of course he had known. He was Sherlock. He always knew. Sherlock was going to save her. The pain would pass. It would. It would. It had to.

Just before she lost consciousness, Adele heard a voice call her name. And suddenly she wasn't so calm. The voice was unfamiliar. And more importantly…

It wasn't Sherlock's.

_Hello again! Good to see you. Now, a few things:_

_One, IngridNixie wrote most of this because she is amazing, and you should look her up because;_

_Two! She's writing a companion fic which is important because;_

_Three! THEY SHALL COLLIDE. _

_As per usual, please review if you liked this, because it makes me happy. Second, I love you all sososososo much and this fic won't be finishing for ages yet. I'm taking an extended break to help write IngridNixie's companion fic, and when I return, you will all rejoice and stuff. Or not._

_This is why I am supposedly an arrogant pessimist._

_Don't worry, this account won't be completely silent. I'm thinking of starting a one shot thing and stuff, so you'll see plenty of me. Now, head over to IngridNixie, where the fun begins [Once we stop procrastinating]!_


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